But I didn’t even wear all my summer clothes!
Typically this time of year I am stoked to pull down tubs of sweaters and thick knits from the top of my closet. In their place, I’ll say a temporary farewell to summer’s shorts and tank tops, packing away fond memories of picnics in the park with my friends, a particularly lovely date night, or a trip to somewhere warm and exotic. I might leave out a few items for an upcoming vacation that involves a pool or a beach. But, generally, I’ve had enough strappy dresses and sheer fabrics, and I’m ready to bundle up.
So, it was just one more reminder that 2020 is anything but typical when I went to swap my closet over the weekend only to find several summer pieces with tags still attached, still waiting for their “right moment” debut. There’s a matching set of floral Bermuda shorts and a flowy button-up that would have made a great brunch look. A lime green frock with a bubble hem sits on the back of the rack just dreaming of going dancing. And don’t get me started on my Intentionally Blank fuschia heels of LOQ sandals with the ankle straps.
I know there are much bigger things we’ve lost this year, but this tactile representation of all the potential memories 2020 took from me is, well, a real bummer. As I folded each item into the tub, I said a little prayer that they’ll still be cool and chic next year. (Speaking of which, can we all just agree that 2021 is going to have the exact same trends for this reason?) On the plus side, my comfy sweatpants selection is hibernation ready and better than ever.
What to do? For one, I’ve decided that some pieces I wouldn’t normally consider to be “transitional” are going to stick around for a while. I’m not giving up hope that a gauzy Cecilie Bahnsen top with big puffy sleeves in the loveliest rose color can’t work under a chunky cardigan. I have a few pairs of slides that, in typical Northwest fashion, I’ll wear with thick socks. There’s one summer dress I think I could layer under a sweater or over a turtleneck. But mostly, I’m letting myself mourn the losses of this year, and not just the sartorial ones. And I’m reminding myself of the memories I did make where clothing was just less of a priority: art projects, camping adventures, a national park road trip, so many puzzles completed.
As I commit fully to fall, I’m vowing to wear my favorite pieces more often. Instead of adding a lot of new things to my closet, I’ll instead only invest in pieces I really love—ones that are worthy of the rare events and activities over the coming months. (I’ve got my eye on you, Lauren Manoogian sweater.) My summer clothes will still be there next year. But now it’s time to get toasty.