Tuesday, August 30, 2016

The September "Issue"

Every fall without fail, completely unsolicited, it arrives…The September Issue. No, not Vogue’s ample annual offering with five and a half pounds of pages that finds its way to my mailbox at the end of August. But rather, the fashion fix I find myself in shortly thereafter.

When pumpkin spice promises collide with sandals and suntans. When the wardrobe worn all summer suddenly loses its sizzle, but it’s still too early for the boots stored under the bed. When the thermometer and the calendar refuse to corroborate and we’re left in the lurch of an artificial autumn.

And I am not the only one afflicted with this annual ambivalence. I’ve already seen knit hats with flannel shirts in 90 degrees on too-eager teenagers who couldn’t wait to wear their back-to-school best. And witnessed shivering after sunset in sundresses while wool wearers were wiping sweat from their brows on the same sidewalks. I have even seen one Franklin Avenue Fauxhemian in a scarf, slip and snow boots. And yes, he was a hipster, not homeless, who picked this on purpose.

It’s a clothing conundrum with too little trendy transition and no prospects for practicality. And for those of us in larger cities with limited leeway there’s not enough closet for crossover. There’s no space for seasonal uncertainty. And so it all winds up crammed and cramped and crinkled and creased until it is completely unwearable.

Ugh! Why won’t summer just get out and leave the key making a clean break until we’re ready for reconciliation? Is it jealous of autumn being so cool and all? Worried that we’ll forget the warmth that we shared. I just need a break from the intensity. It’s not like this is forever, it’s just for now.

And I want it, like I want just about everything. Now! Now! Now! I have grown so bad at waiting. I so rarely have to do it anymore. In this fast-paced-at-my-fingertips-order-it-online-same-day-instantanious world in which we live, I want to want something and then no longer have to want it. And I want my seasons the same way. I want my fall to fall when September starts. No lingering through Labor Day. No Indian Summer, which is a HORRIBLE term by the way insinuating that an entire group of people, not even from India, have an inclination to give and then take back everything…including warm weather.

These poor people are not to blame. September is! September, with her sweet assurances that autumn has arrived only to continue forgoing fall. September, with her shell game of seasons. September with her “wouldn’t you love to wear this, if only I would let you?” September! September! September!

Fashion isn’t the issue. Summer isn’t the issue. Even impatience isn’t the issue. September is the issue!

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