It’s that time of year where I dramatically wipe my brow and say, “Have you ever even been this hot in your life??!” and then you say “Phew it’s a scorcher” and then we collectively try to remember if temperatures ever climbed higher than 95 degrees last summer (they did).
I figured I had three options today: I could melt. I could curl up in an air conditioned Zara somewhere or I could go to Starbucks and watch the city slump while I slurped iced beverages. My darling mamma, constantly monitoring my caffeine levels, surprised me with a *$’s card in the mail and seeing as how I’m practically living in poverty after handing over all my money to Rebecca Minkoff last weekend, my decision was pretty much made for me (noregretsmostamazingbagever).
YIKES have you ever even been this hot in your life?
Spent the 4th of July in a Brooklyn backyard that had just as many puppies as it did hipsters but honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I decided to celebrate the occasion by whipping out my favorite razor blade necklace. A friend told me it was very “emo chic” but please, have you ever seen an emo kid with such a standout neon belt? My friend Ryan opted for more traditional patriotism with his red, white and blue and did you know? He’s a top notch grill master. Just check out those shrimp skewers.
Beach escapes to the Hamptons, seashell hunts and human cattle herds around Prince Street. See? Summer isn’t so bad.
A trip to the High Line proved to be very handsy — and also impossibly crowded. I blame the amazing mango chili popsicles to be found every few feet. And the fantastic views of the city, though none as great as what you can find street-level. Some friends and I were romping around midtown last night when we stumbled across the Empire State Building and pleasantly remembered we live in New York City. It’s easy to forget sometimes.
The couture shows in Paris held my attention for a hot minute this week but then I realized it’s impossible to lust after clothing when your only sartorial goal is to have as little fabric touching your body as possible. But oh, that red coat dress with the pockets. Welcome to Dior, Mr. Simons.