“…we will wander through the warm winds of summer’s wreckage. we will welcome summer’s ghost.” // h. rollins

it has begun.

you can see it in those who love it most. they’ve become a bit forlorn – a wee bit out of sorts; they cling to their dingiest of plimsolls, their most threadbare denim cut-offs; they ignore the morning’s slight chill and will say that they simply forgot to take a cardi with them when they meet you for a drink on your favourite patio later tonight.

it’s true that the number of days (i) spent lamenting the heat, have been fewer in number this summer than in comparison to others – but, it was a summer nonetheless and it’s final days are at the onset of their countdown.

the signs of summer’s demise are everywhere – they shout ‘back to school!’ they claim, ‘end-of-summer sale!’ they whisper to themselves, ‘the days are already getting shorter…’.

and i feel badly for them, i really do – for those who mourn the loss of the 93 days, 15 hours and 42 minutes of summer – the approaching end can be a bit thorny.

for me, though? there’s absolutely no way you’ll find me bitching about seeing august out and welcoming september back in. august is like those last few pages of a book you didn’t quite enjoy, but need to see it till the end; september is the page-turner.






➝ source : bubble popover via tibi

➝ source : avrum print skirt via marni

➝ source : isabel marant sleeveless heko jacket via moda operandi

➝ source : alison cropped jeans via r13


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