Holy Heat, Give Me a Breeze
After a long, long season of angry tweets at the weather report, I’m not saying I wish it was cold, but I am saying, “shit son, it is hot.” As it happens, New York City, a place where moderation is nothing more than a 10-letter word knows no limit. Both warmth and frigidness leave my wardrobe tainted by the wrath of “seasonal dressing.” Maybe I feel like socks today. Maybe I felt like a knee length skirt sans tights last March. Give me my leather jacket. This may have been feasible some years ago but today, Global Warming robs us of transition seasons. In an effort to discount the sweat stains of today, I look back to a breezier, more hypothermic time. One that forced me to cover my neck with a scarf, my body with animal-friendly flocks from Mongol and my legs with
menstruation wine colored suede.
Now, I create an outfit that says, if it were Fall, and the Internets were my closet, this is what I’d be wearing.
Fuschia frames, sign me up! Compliments the sunglasses’ pink arms with none other than McQueen’s own…pink skulls. Watermelon, anyone? Rain or shine, everyone needs to enjoy an arm party. Monchomatic creme colors on the side inside, complimented with a gray cape-like jacket. Bonus points for those rolled sleeves. And finally, the Isabel Marant bootie. No outfit is complete with a wooden baby heel come Fall. And break. Back to reality.