It’s the end of summer, but not really. We still have like 15 days or so left, and I think it’s entirely appropriate to wear white jeans all the way up until then. And maybe after. And then again in March, when the time changes. New rule! Make it happen.
I’m so excited for this time where summer and fall intersect, when days consist of eating grilled corn and drinking iced pumpkin coffee within hours of each other. When it’s still warm but chilly at night. Oh and I sort of cheated and drank some iced pumpkin latte this weekend… whatevs. No, I still don’t like coffee. Prob had my fill already. But I can’t help that I just want to be a cool kid like you.
And I’m totally thrilled for things like pomegranates and even… brussels sprouts. I know. With bacon grease and parmesan of course… but still. What? I don’t even know what I just said.
I ate so much cake this weekend I could die. No.more.cake.please.
Does the end of summer mean I should retire my embarrassingly large and ridiculous sunglasses? What about my denim jacket, which I wore, oh… maybe every single day for the last four months? You obviously knew that because it’s been like, the only thing I’ve been photographed in all season. I think I’ve washed it twice. Oh well… true life. Can’t hide anything from you. I think the neon nail polish is done for the year, but only because I have weird life rules and now it’s time for purples and greens and blues and burgundy-like things. I still fully plan to wear neon otherwise and have style that resembles that of a 17-year old.
The last four days were waaaay too much fun. The included a surprise party for my brother’s 25th birthday and three nights in a row going to bed later than MIDNIGHT. Huge deal. My eyes are drooping as I type. And now I’m watching Dirty Dancing and seriously contemplating… could there BE a better summer movie?! I think not.
Hold on to summer! What did you do that was seriously fun this weekend? The only thing I want to do today is eat a freaking hot dog. Well okay… maybe two hot dogs.
P.S. this was THEE summer of Pimm’s cups. I mean, if you can’t eat your vegetables, you may as well drink them.