Oh September, the most beautiful month of the year.
Brisk mornings, warmish afternoons, crisp air, cool breezes.
I love you. You are without a doubt my favorite.
Except for one small thing.
What the hell am I supposed to wear?
You are an in between month and my closet is one of extremes. My wardrobe is not nuanced enough for your brand of mildness.
It leaves me out of sorts. Neither here nor there. Too early for boots and sweaters. Too late for sun dresses and sandals.
September, you’re such a small window of time, but that doesn’t stop me. Like a squirrel preparing, I go through my closet extracting all of the bad nuts before I can go out and forage for something fresh.
First, I pull out all my summer gear because my favorite summer staples are dead to me once to temp drops below 80 degrees.
Then, I take inventory of what I have that…
1. Fits (Did not shrink, stretch out, or I can wear comfortably for longer than two hours)
2. Doesn’t have an olive oil/grease stain
3. I’ve worn more than once
4. I actually like
If it doesn’t meet the above criteria, which is unfortunately most everything I own, it gets shoved in a black plastic garbage bag to be donated. Then the bag will sit in the corner of my room for at least five weeks. I’ll know the clothing situation has reached its low point when I start scavenging for something to wear from the bag of discarded items.
Now it’s time for a quick inventory of what I have left.
Three gray t-shirts
Six gray sweaters (four cardigans, two crew necks)
One gray skirt
One pair of jeans
One pair of army green pants
Six striped shirts (Enough already with the freakin’ stripes. Are fabric designers on strike or something? If not, they are really phoning it in.)
One pair black ballet flats (You know your shoe situation is piss poor when a sporty dad at the bus stop notices how your busted up ballet flats need an upgrade.)
One pair of – you guessed it – gray Chuck Taylor’s
It is with this information in hand that I am prepared to declare a fall fashion outlook. I predict lots of gray interrupted by stripes, and flip flops until frost bite sets in.
You heard it here first.
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