Every autumn (and I’m going to call this “autumn” even though it’s eighty degrees outside because Labor Day is about thirty seconds away), it appears that I establish a uniform.
I think it’s just that every time September rolls around there’s some “thing” – whether that’s a pair of jeans, a sweater, a leather jacket, whatever – that I’ve been wanting to wear for months, and now that the weather’s turning I can.
And so I do. Every day.
In the fall of 2011 – the year our son was born – I wore head-to-toe black for about three months straight. The next year, it was cozy sweaters with asymmetrical necklines and bellbottoms. And this year, it’s hats and knits. Basically, I want to look like Johnny Depp, except for…
Well, actually: no “except for.” I’d take looking exactly like Johnny Depp any day.
This is my version: way-too-big vests and wide-brimmed Panama hats and everything else as low-maintenance as can be. (Seriously, I might as well just throw my makeup bag and hairbrush out the window for all the good they’re doing me at the moment. I just don’t feel like powders and creams and sprays at the moment; I feel like relaxing.)