These blue skies, verdant greens, and rosy, drawn-out afternoons can only mean one thing: summer's here.
For many folks, this time of year is a serenade to the waters. You’ve got long weekends to frolic in the sand and surf, and truant workdays to bum by a friend’s pool (but you didn’t hear it from me). Out come the tiny suits and bare skin, begging to be bronzed—and once the full-body Midas touch sinks in (hopefully with a layer of SPF), it’s a cool splash into the nearest waterhole.
For others, summer is a call to pack their bags. People are struck by wanderlust when the sun’s out—it seeps in like a vapor when they’re nailed to their cubicles, observing the glory outside their office windows. Suddenly, those racked-up vacation leaves are maxed out, and it’s only a matter of time before you get to cross one of the meccas off your bucket list.
And then there are the poor souls who see summer as just another thing you miss out on when you’re deeply entrenched in the working world. Been there, done that.
But let’s not go down that rabbit hole today.
Today, I’d like to let you in on a little secret. Yes, like so many other people, I take this season as the time to swim and sun-worship, to binge and booze on barkada road trips, and to fly to places I’ve never seen before, with a fresh new wardrobe to match.
But if you ask for the one thing that encapsulates each summer, for me, it is nostalgia.
Year after year, within the balmy brackets of March, April, and May, I find myself reminiscing about the summer before. What was I doing then? Where was I on this very day? Who was I with? What was I wearing around that time? (Does it still fit me?)
Let’s go back a year from now, for instance. At the start of last summer, I was still working at my old job; by May, I would have just resigned. I spent my first week of official unemployment in Hong Kong, one of my favorite cities in the world (and if you ask me, one of the best places to celebrate a new chapter in any girl’s life). It was particularly hot, and I was particularly happy. I wore bright, sheer things, summery stripes, a ton of florals. It felt like my life was about to undergo a big, big change, and I wanted to face it in something more inspirational than basic black.
On to three years ago: I had just graduated, and I was getting ready to travel to Europe. Cut to mid-April, when I arrived in France, beaming from ear to ear at the sight of the Eiffel and bristling top-to-toe from wind chill. I wore jeans and leather jackets almost every day, which is quite uncharacteristic of me, but spring in Paris is like Christmas in Baguio—freezing! Luckily, things warmed up when I got to Rome: I nixed the leather, cuffed my denims, and tossed linen tops over them, with bright scarves. Once during our stay, it grew warm enough for me to forget the notion of “overseas weather” altogether. I put on a boatneck tee and a bright, swishy skirt, and I felt like Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun.
Five years ago: I was in Batangas, spending a few days with the girls at a friend’s beach house. These girls are a well-dressed bunch, so I packed fasyon resortwear for the trip. Nautical skirts, to be worn over bandeau bikinis. Pressed white dresses with eyelet detail. My favorite filmy caftan. Apart from that, and the tan that my photos show me I have long lost, all I remember is that it was a grand old time.
And that’s what summer is all about, isn’t it? You dig your heels into the precious downtime and build memories that you can recall a year, three years, five years, even 10 years from now, long after the warmth and saltwater smell have left you. You’ll open your closet one March, April, or May, and you’ll see this dress that you wore on that day with this person while you were at this place—and in an instant, it’ll take you back to once-upon-a-time.
So it goes with summer dressing. Give or take a few inches on a hem or a sleeve, some things never change—nor have any need to. You can wear them once, or forever, and either way, they serve their purpose: to keep you comfortable, chic, and classic, so that when you reflect on that one great summer (or twenty of them), there’s nothing to regret.
So here are my 10 timeless staples for the best time of the year. I never start a summer without them—and that’s never going to change.
For more Stylewise, click below:
(Flashbox photo from Sex and the City courtesy of HBO)
