At the end of nearly every summer, all the garment categories that I vowed to never tire of – the exquisite white linens, structurally forgiving kaftans, simple denim shorts and light cotton blouses – begin to look more like restaurant table-napkins, cheap ways to avoid getting dressed, dated bottoms and tattered tops.
This is not because any of these clothes actually do become tired, but it is because I get tired. Such is the woe (or is it thrill?) of living in a four-season climate. Inevitably, I am conditioned to anticipate the one that comes next, and in doing so, to send the one in which I currently still stand to the graveyard. So right now,
with the momentum of summer’s wings dropping, all I can think of is the multifarious opportunities of the imminent AW19 season. The choices! The muses!
The identities I can craft and mould – slip into and out of – in the name of displaying the slate I have wiped clean! It is all as if to say, ‘Hello, world, I am born anew and this – these trends, right here below – are how I shall express it.’