As much as I want to be an irreverent rule breaker, I am a rule FOLLOWER. Perhaps it’s one of the many vestiges of my prep school youth like how I have a panic attack when I realize I’ve forgotten to wear a belt, or my unwavering penchant for tartan. I find comfort in structure and rules provide a nice scaffolding for crafting a wardrobe in a place devoid of seasons. When I first arrived in Los Angeles, coming straight out of four years in Hanover, New Hampshire, I found the lack of seasons incredibly disorienting. People walk around in summer clothes all year long and it’s utter madness! I very quickly made a rule for myself: that I would dress for the seasons and follow the otherwise arbitrary sartorial rules - like not wearing white after Labor Day - to create some semblance of seasons for myself. Putting away the whites for a few months may hurt, especially since I’m always trying to live my Lauren Conrad SoCal day dream, but the wise words “absence makes the hear grow fonder” among other cliches remind us that delayed gratification can produce outstanding dividends.* So here’s a retrospective of a couple of times I wore white this season, try not to shed a tear it's not "goodbye," it's just "be seeing you" and there’s always next summer!
*A mantra my financial advisor has suggested I repeat to myself daily.