How we do come summertime

And after a brief hiatus, this girl returns, stoked like a fire, ready to write.

That right there is fashion columnist and summer me’s permanent inspiration, Diana Vreeland.   

Let me tell you about summer me.  I live in the rain city, Vancouver, the epicenter of Canadian SADness (that’s not a fact, it’s a wild and baseless theory) and, for most of the year, I am mostly a miserable, snivelling wine-sponge.  I work and I write but mostly autumn me is without vim or vigour, drained of enthusiasm.  Mostly, she watches Married… with Children reruns and hovers on the verge of tears.  Summer me is me 2.0- freckled, berry-picking, stylish, fun.  She wears straw hats, white shirts and linen shorts, she rides in speed boats, lounges dockside and swims in the ocean.  She is a coastal creature, fearless and relaxed.  I love her.  Come May, I begin to count down the days until she arrives.  Come September I start trying to convince her to stick around for a few months longer.  I’ve had the privilege of being summer me for the last month and a bit and what a wonderful time I’ve had. 

You would love summer me.

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3 Responses to How we do come summertime

  1. Kat says:

    This is funny. I think I’ve written the same post but reversed — summer me is tired and uncomfortable. Hates shorts and sandals. You would like winter me.

  2. Wow, you totally nailed ME! I’m in upstate New York and go through exactly the same thing but haven’t been able to voice it so eloquently, especially the “miserable, snivelling wine-sponge” part. The crickets have started and that seems to trigger the “slow down” thing in my brain. Damn it.

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