Summertime… a season that is longed for, so much so that the body aches. To lift your face upwards to a warm sun before you’ve even thought about your morning coffee. To feel the salty air, tangling and thickening your hair. The unrivalled refreshing touch of an icy lemonade, tickling and satisfying, swiftly followed by a second taste taken immediately after the first.
Before you know it, summer solstice has come and gone. The idea of loss, of missing out, rises like a lump in your throat, like the lemonade suddenly less sweet. You can’t fit enough summer into your day because of this, or that. You cling desperately to the idea of it as it slowly but surely slips away, like sand through fingers that can’t fill the cracks no matter how tightly they’re clasped.
I constantly have to remind myself to stop thinking about summer and start enjoying the hour or two of my favourite season, here, or there, this day, that day, last week and next week… until finally it really has gone. With the new season comes new moments, but soon enough the summer ache returns… and so the cycle begins again.
It’s summer. It’s still summer. Go.
I’m wearing
Dress, TK Maxx
Hat, Whiteley Hats
Sunglasses, Dior
Basket, Next (gifted years ago)
He’s wearing
Shorts, John Lewis
Hat, St James Quarter (gifted)
She’s wearing
Swimsuit, Asda
Hat, Next
