- Tara R.
HERE COMES THE SUN...
Don’t Mind Me, I’m Just In-Between Seasons…
I know it's not that cold out. I mean, this must be what those two weeks of winter are like in LA. I'm okay with waiting for it --but transitions can be hard. Sure, the shifting seasons remind us that the earth is actually one big spinning disco ball, and that nature is as alive as we are, but it's still a bitch to figure out what to wear. Of all the earthly miracles manifesting this time of year, truly none is as mind-bendy as trying to figure out whether you’ll shiver or sweat in your ankle booties without socks. You are not alone; no one likes to be teased. Except these people:
Cabbies. They can tell by that look on your face that you are stunned silly by the cold; that you were so eager to enjoy the sunny day that you got cocky and didn’t bother to check the temperature. They’ll rarely stop just where you are standing, as it’s fun to see you sprint sans stockings in stilettos. Uber who? Damn straight.
Doormen. Their expressions read as one big “Really?” There’s a moment of sheer awkwardness when you come prancing through the lobby in your sheer statement top only to see that it’s still overcoat season.
Therapists. Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I thought you just had a little seasonal depression, but now I see this may be just depression-depression. Would you like to increase to maybe two sessions a week?
Umbrella guys. He may not have a PHD in Baroque art history like you do, but he DOES have the foresight to glance at his Dark Sky app in the morning. He's laughing all the way to the bank as you pay a 600% markup for an umbrella that has a guaranteed 4 minute lifespan. If you’ve failed to prepare, you’ve prepared to fail. Can you say street smarts?
Retailers. It’s CAMP SEASON! Shop NOW to buy future clothes for your rapidly-growing children. Buy the large, they’ll grow into it! And if it simply falls off their undersized frames (should you look into that?!), fear not. It will have a name tag in it, so you will know exactly who to call when it all gets mixed up anyway.
Colorists. Busy season is here! New Yorkers like to stay ahead of the curve. I need my hair to look perfectly highlighted now, before the sun starts to really shine, because then it's hat season.
Children. It remains a mystery to anthropologists across the globe, but children everywhere are shorts-happy. The mere glimmer of a sun-ray has them briskly bare-legged. Parents are too winter-wearied to try and get around this, and simply cross their fingers that pneumonia season is over. Who pays the price? Teachers who have to send a note home decreeing that tank tops are not back in season just because you took the snow pants out of the cubby.
Trainers. The phone will be buzzing off the hook. It’s time to get your beach body on -- but after drop off and before my son's soccer game, and definitely not during lunch or happy hour. Can you squeeze me in?!? These same people will be cancelling sessions and placing orders at Insomonia cookies the moment they see a cloud system approaching. There’s time; what’s the rush?