Spaghetti-strap dresses become the only solace during a heat wave week. Bike shorts become distant memories for free thighs and sun-blocked knees. I look for what’s cute; short dresses with white clovers, linen shorts with yellow striped shirts, netted tank tops with baggy blue jeans. All fail to cool me down in the way a cool shaded breeze promises, or what my air conditioner readily supplies.
My un-pedicured toes have seen better days and nicer wears. Beat-up Birkenstocks with chatty soles and weathered down heals accompany the sweat that drips slowly between. I try something different; leather, handmade, color blocked, only to return to what allows my feet to breathe and knees to remain intact. When examining this season’s beloved fisherman sandals, The Cut wrote, “Maybe it’s a return to functionality — many people have gotten more used to walking and biking places since the pandemic.” While they may look fisherman style, they also remind me of huaraches, worn in warm weather climates as part comfort and culture. Or my favorite 90s “jellies” worn as a way to keep my sweaty toes slippery and colorful through country and city streets.
When I’ve changed my outfit for the second time in one day, I go for a white tank and long biker shorts that don’t ride when I walk. It’s the kind of shirt that looks good with big earrings, nameplates and bucket hats. Kitten heels swapped at night, and sneakers during the day with kids, please.
This is August weather in June. The soupy subway kind. The chew on ice chips kind. The smell good, look good, and will sweat later. The kind where you wear less and less. Inside, the anatomy of clothes becomes the uncomplicated anatomy of your own naked limbs in a room with a new book.
The sun goes down, and the possibility of an old scrappy gold sundress and heels make its way. Or a bathing suit top worn with a favorite skirt and berry lips. A blazer as back-up because nights are cool around here.
When the cicadas marinate and I’m called in for the evening, the air conditioner stays off, hair is tied under faithful silk scarves. Nothing on the legs. Nothing on the feet. The ceiling fan whirls. Silk pajamas help cool too, only to do it again.
I wonder if the clothes are missing me. The clothes I swore I would wear. The ones typed out in anticipation and in FOMO. A friend shared that she’ll be overdressed everyday in 2021 from this point forward and I couldn’t stop laughing. If only I could in the city during heat-weeks such as these. Maybe that means more silk dresses and open toes, with hair up? The days ahead promise to be slightly cooler. A bit less-so in the sweat department. I hope to peel myself away from the intoxicating fan and into the pile of laundry to plan one day looks, for one day photos, and many days outside.
Is it hot where you are? Would love to hear about what you’re wearing to beat the heat!
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