what i wore - blended days
The outfit posts have been scant this year, because, lazy.
But still, I try. I like writing about clothes, and miss it, and in recent months, it felt like whatever skills I once had in doing that had gone rusty from lack of use. I no longer feel like thoughts about clothing flow coherently from me, even if my romance with personal style and dressing remains.
I was nudged into writing this post when the newsletter from Elizabeth Suzann announcing the launch of their Warm Weather Collection landed in my inbox. Her clothes interest me, but it's the way she writes about them that moves me. Her designs are practical, but her words lend romance:
"Forgetting travel altogether, sunny spring days are when I clean my house, shaking the dust from the rugs and unearthing forgotten artifacts from dark closets. Purging the unwanted, reliving fond days passed, familiarizing myself with my possessions, shaping what I want my tomorrow to look like. Even the most mundane springtime Sundays spent here at the warehouse are a romantic sensory experience - the quiet whir of a fan, bare feet on the cool concrete floor, the hot asphalt of the parking lot. It seems, in my mind, that there is simply more real living to be done in the bright, warm, light of day.
Comfort, first. Fabrics that are light, breathable, and look good worn and perhaps a bit dirtied. Shapes that stand away from the body, for those hot days when you just don’t want anything to touch you. Cuts that move with you, breathing and flowing with airy ease. Pieces that let me feel the warm touch of sun on my back and shoulders, but that don’t make me feel uncomfortably exposed. Something I can wear loose and big, but that I can also cinch at the waist and change the silhouette if I choose. Annie Hall with a smidge of Sophia Loren, right?" -- Elizabeth Suzann
Something about what she said brought me back to the carefree days of salt and wine in Margaret River back in March, when I spent a week there. The scorching heat of high summer in Australia had relaxed into something more amiable, though still prone to sharp swings - bitingly cool mornings and nights, fierce sun beating down waves of heat during the day. Cool cellars and the fresh, bright green of vineyards. Velvety reds and crisp whites. Cheese and nectarines.
We spent entire days taking long walks on the beaches, sometimes stripping down to our swimmers to cool off in the sea, sometimes wrapping ourselves in layers to fend off lashes of wind and fine, misty rain. We retreated into the shade of towering karri and tingle trees, breathing in the rich, nourishing air. We gawped gracelessly at the star-strewn night skies, tripping on the uneven ground in the dark, in awe of the night.
I packed all manner of things, but my favourite outfit was the one above - a cotton tee that worked for day and night, a hat to keep off the sun and also keep the hair out of my face when the wind picked up. Loose jeans that were easy to roll up when I stepped into the sand or let water lap at my feet. I could wear swimming things under this outfit, but also quickly pull on a sweater and a scarf to stay warm. Above all, I felt myself, and this made me ready for adventure, quick to melt into my strange, new surroundings.
It's been well over two months, and the city has absorbed me again, pulled me into its frentic rhythms. But I won't forget the clear, bright light I left behind, the endless sky, the restlessly changing blues of the sea, the creamy white sand, the silvery peeling bark of the karri trees, the coppery red earth that seems everywhere in Australia. The careless charm of jeans and a white tee.
In the steamy haze of the tropics, I yearn for the quiet, cool calm I felt in Margaret River. White is a difficult colour to keep fresh over the years, but looking at my wardrobe, I can't imagine not having a small army of crisp, white pieces to add a cool breeziness to my outfits. Blue continues to be a staple, while pops of clay and coral perk up my days.