By Claudia Saide | Photography by SUKILYNN
Don’t get me wrong. I love the summer. It’s like a three-month vacation from life when everything just slows down and rules seem to not really matter. I love that I feel like I can eat ice cream every time my son does and not give a shit, and I love that I feel no guilt when I bail on work just because it’s too nice a day to not go to the beach (still haven’t missed one yet though FYI).
I love how everything just feels so carefree and chill, and I look forward to it every winter as I freeze my ass off. But two weeks into it and I’m like, “Fuck, is it fall yet?”
Happens every year, couldn’t make it up if I tried. It’s not that I don’t love wearing denim shorts everyday, and going out with the girls for drinks every night. Those things are what make summer the best. But the no rules thing? That’s what starts to get to me.
You see, deep down, I’m totally a Type-A nerd, and I love structure, and schedules, and routine. I love deadlines, and I love knowing what my week will look like ahead of time. So while it’s nice to take a mind-break from all that for a little while, eventually I start to miss it.
And then the craving for fall clothing starts to set in. Guys, I’m a fashion writer, so I’m pretty much always looking at clothes, and there are only so many times one can write about an off-the-shoulder top without wanting to scream. By July, I’m already like, “Brocade jackets please!”
It’s insane, because in reality I am the world’s biggest beach bum. I’d rather sit by myself and stare at the ocean with the sand between my toes all day then meet my friends for lunch and rosé.
Summer really is everything to me.
But then it’s also not. The other half of me wants to be slammed and running around like a maniac getting everything done. Sick as it sounds, I actually miss not having down time. There’s just way too much of it in the summer for my taste.
So when fall comes in, life (to me at least) picks up again. The city goes from being so empty that you can easily get a cab at 4:30 on any given day, to having to pay a surged rate to Uber because they know how desperate you are to get to that dinner meeting. Real life resumes and I actually appreciate it. I don’t complain about how busy I am, or think about how badly I need a vacation. I don’t worry about how I’ll have dinner on the table for Isaac and Henri after a day of back-to-back appointments and meetings. I’m busy, and back in my element.
Of course this excitement only lasts for about a month, because after I realize that I have another nine months of chaos. And then, like everybody else, I’m wishing for summer.