August 20, 2014 § Leave a comment
As a Pennsylvania girl, this is the worst time of year for my wallet. It’s a struggle; it’s a battle; it’s a war. The next few weeks will be filled with a hellish ordeal, wherein I practice heroic amounts of self-restraint and constantly ponder the villainy of filthy lucre. You see, my inbox is being bombarded with the new autumn clothing arrivals: soft sweaters and tunics and faded plaid and leggings and dark denim and printed scarves. Oh they’re all so pretty! It’s too soon for me to pull out my fall wardrobe, which means I can’t really remember what fall clothes I have, which means I want to buy everything I see. (Don’t worry, Dad, the operative phrase there is ‘want to’.) Seriously, I have never regretted anything more in my life than signing up to receive emails from the J. Crew Factory Store. (That’s a bold statement, because I don’t really believe the whole “live life without regrets” adage. I mean, how impossible is it to do that? It’s rather impossible, if it’s possible to have degrees of impossibility.) Whenever I get an email from the J. Crew Factory Store, it’s an automatic reminder for me to go to Confession, because I’m about to commit every kind of sin of greed and jealousy and lust that can be imagined over a merino pocket tunic in red currant. (I’m an XS and my birthday and Christmas are closer than you think.) After thinking about it for a lot longer than I should have, I’ve come to the conclusion that I love fall clothing the most because it’s the best of both worlds. The hint of chill in the air makes layering an art, not a desperate necessity. Your outerwear can still be an accessory, instead of a pitiful shield against frigid winds and biting snow. But at the same time, it’s not so hot and disgustingly humid outside that you literally cannot conceive of wearing anything more than a tank top and shorts. No jewelry, it sticks to your sweaty neck. Hair up because re: neck. Enter fall clothing and its blissful balanced lines. Thank you in advance, autumn, for being the rational wardrobe season that you are. Now let me spend money on you.