After dropping the kiddos at camp this morning I took a wander through North Beach to return some library books and grab a coffee. I ran into a few moms from the ‘hood and we were remarking about what a beautiful morning it was. The sun is finally out after days and days (and days and days) of drizzly fog and it just…Feels. So. Good.
Good enough to make a gal want to run home and put on that one sundress hanging in the back reaches of the closet.
Except not, because it was also 59 degrees at 9 a.m., I was perfectly comfortable in black running tights and a sweatshirt, and this is simply not a sundress kind of a town.
I noticed during last week’s cathartic closet-purge that my summer wardrobe is both limited and well-worn at this point. I don’t think too much about this fact; I just can’t justify a bunch of filmy sundresses and tank tops, because inevitably I put them on and spend the next ten hours cursing the wind and fog and drizzle that rolls in and ruins the whole summer-dressing experience.
But even though I live in one of the gloomiest summer climates possibly on earth, I also read magazines, look at Instagram and Pinterest, and otherwise live in a society that puts summer on a pedestal…and as I result I find that I kind of jones after summer clothes. Maybe I’ll wear them in Tahoe, I think. And then I remember: Tahoe is not Nantucket, or Florida, or Hawaii. Tahoe is cutoffs and running shoes to the rest of the world’s sundress and sandals.
So it happens that my window-shopping for summer clothes is exactly that: window shopping, perhaps with the odd tote or hat purchased to scratch the summertime itch. (Confession: I did buy that off-the-shoulder shirt last week in a moment of probable insanity. I may or may not wear it someday. With jeans. And a coat.)
But a little looking never hurt anyone, so here is a little look at my girl-can-dream midsummer wish list, featuring stripes.
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