How To Feel Like Summer (Pt. 2)

Summer is a feeling, isn’t it?

Five years ago, I wrote a short little piece about the feeling of summer.

Let’s do that again, shall we? 😎

No matter what your summer actually looks like (sweaty feet, stuck at home with lack-of-AC-ice-packs on the head, or stuck-in-the-shivering-office-air-induced colds—I’m looking at you), the feeling of summer captures and seduces us all come June, doesn’t it?

Because summer is an association. It’s a feeling. It’s a state of being, a mindset, a mode that induces exhalation in our bones.

Secretly, we all want to live like summer. We want to move slower, enjoy nature more, delight in our food, lounge better, breathe deeper.

Summer is the feeling of light warming every pore, of letting your hair down. Of saying see-ya to rushing. Of clearing the calendar and practicing il dolce far niente. Of relishing life with more pleasure.

Let’s wear a breezy, tiered, eyelet dress while sipping some limoncello under an umbrella in Positano.

Let’s head for the lake in crisp, cotton shorts and tennies, spend the afternoon in a canoe, shuck corn on the porch, and dress for dinner in a seersucker sundress.

Let’s go mad for mitered vintage madras, grab a tilted straw hat, take the ferry to Catalina, and peddle bicycles to the tiled Casino ballroom.

Let’s serve peach salad and sangria in Portugal, under the portico of a blue and white house, wearing a full-skirted frock in fluttering, crinkled rayon in a print to match.

Let’s break out the block-print caftan with billowing sleeves and jewel tones, stroll a white-sand beach barefoot in Mexico, and fall asleep under a gauzy white canopy.

Let’s wear a lemon-y, stripe-y, linen halter dress, brew iced tea and leave it in the sun, serve it with lemonade and mint in a highball, and sip it on the veranda while listening to Nat King Cole croon “Summer Is A-Comin’ In.”

Let’s lounge by an Art Deco pool in Miami, all in white: glamorous one piece, wedge sandals, white retro sunglasses, full-length cover-up fit for a Grecian goddess. Order plenty of coconut water, and make sure your nails match the red striped umbrellas.

Let’s dress in a pale, 1930s fluttery frock, pack a picnic of tea sandwiches and dill pickles in a rattan hamper, lounge on the lawn of the Dunsmuir Mansion, and listen to the crackling strains of Guy Lombardo on the “radio,” until the band begins and we grab our dancing shoes.

Let’s throw a striped Breton shirt over a plaid bikini and head for the sailboat. I’ll be skipper, in charge of the tunes (Bing Crosby) and the sandwiches (heirloom tomato and cheese on rye).

Let's go for a drive in sky-blue gingham and a 1950s light blue convertible to match. The top down necessitates a scarf wrapped around the head and white driving gloves, and the picnic lunch in the back means we can get lost and linger.

Summer indeed transports, relaxes, unwinds, slows. It refreshes, enchants, and charms. I’m ready to dress, dine, and dance for all the delightful environs summer offers, whether imagined or real. (Even though my summer will be spent at home, you’ll still find me sewing a dress—and making a playlist—for all my summer fantasies!) Here’s to the light, bright exhale we're craving.