Never underestimate the color palette of a city that has been waiting, patiently, for an excuse to break out the blues.
While the temperature rose and dropped we sat and watched. We counted cut-offs and calculated the per-wear cost of as-of-yet-unworn open-toe shoes.
We dusted off denim of the lighter variety and started stashing away sweaters before we probably should have. Coats hung around like that guy who doesn’t know when to leave the party, out of place and unwelcome, confused by the forecast.
We denied them in our denial that there was still a winter backlash because we knew summer was coming. It’s a scientifically and historically proven season. We just knew.
So slowly, surely, steadily — we started sliding in the blues.
Then the yellows started to dance.
Umbrellas went up and came down while citrus filled glasses half-full throughout
For a city that’s known to exist in wardrobes of all black, it’s as though a town-hall was held in our collective closets where a memo was announced: calendrical dates be damned–
SUMMER IS BACK.
Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis.