I used to think that if you wanted to say something provocative or seductive or just plain complicated with what you were wearing, you had to wear a lot of clothes. But now that I’m getting older and have genuinely started to favor efficiency/optimization over effectively anything outside the realm of soul, I realize how flawed that thinking was. Assuming that I could not make a complicated statement with my clothes for the duration of a ~four-month period wherein it is plainly too warm for further layers than that of a top and bottom really missed the point of getting dressed.
And as someone who marvels at warm weather, loves it more than most things and cites the invention of the hashtag #lovesummerhateverythingelse as her most valuable contribution to Instagram, how could I possibly be free of opinion for the duration of my favorite season? How, I ask you? Tell me the fuck how.
And while there is a special merit to dressing like the human equivalent of an onion who has been laying idly in the produce section waiting for a hand to grab it so that it could extol its own virtue, to let the peeling begin only to find it might never end, that’s not really an option right now.