case in point; i usually only wash my hair once a week - on a sunday, but this week i was away for the whole weekend. come monday morning, i was sporting some attrocious butlin'sesque crunchy locks and was forced into washing them before work. i loathe washing my hair in the morning - hence why the laborious task is normally designated to a sunday morning, when i have all the time in the world for it to dry. my hair is thick; it takes an eternity to dry. well, monday morning was already pretty balmy, so i threw caution to the wind and just bloody did it. i hurriedly blow-dried my fringe (for obvious reasons)(so i could see!) but left the rest of it to do it's ting naturally. which i never do, because of all the frizz. and stupid straight-but-not-quite-straight-enough effect my hair takes on all by itself.
later that morning at work, after the hair had dried and i had flip-flopped all the way to work through a very muggy-but-still-stupidly-windy city, i was mere metres in the door before i heard the first of many "i love your hair like that erica!" of the day. now, don't get me wrong; i appreciate the compliments. i love the compliments. but why do these people insist on complimenting me when i have appointed exactly zero shits toward my appearance, and when i am surviving on less-than-six hours of sleep and probably still wine fumes? all those other days, when i care about how i look and, well, life in general, where are my compliments then? nowhere! that's where! the morning that i run out the house with wet hair and yesterday's clothes on, i get the ego boost i am usually so desperate for! you people suck!
i'm off topic. my point (is somewhere) is this; it's too bloody hot for the regular look that i have carefully crafted over time, and finally #nailed after years and years of not loving myself very much. it's no secret i'm not entirely pleased with the body i'm in, but as i have precisely zero intention to change anything about it, i need to find alternatives that make me feel ok about myself. i am normally never without tights. this isn't because i luhhhhhhve the feel of lycra on the skin, and so long for my school-girl days - no. it's because i have awful legs and wish to hide them from the world. "oh erica", i hear you say, "don't be so silly! they're not awful!" well, smarty pants, how could you know that when you've never seen them? ner.
i have my mother's legs; shapely (in the wrong way), bad circulation and pretty old before their time. they don't suit me, and i loath them. ipso facto, tights are my solution. so, when the temperatures rise and 80 denier is too close to lava on the skin than necessarily comfortable, i ditch them. just like that! ditch them. oh, well i mean, i still cover them up, just not... in the same way. in my arsenal of dresses are approximately ten maxi skirts and dresses for those exact moments in time, and boy oh boy, am i glad maxi things are still a thing. god bless the seventies and all their festival fun, eh! oh woodstock, i could never thank you enough for your contribution to the continued need of paisley and crochet and denim (oh my!).
so, in the pursuit of happiness (and less sweatiness), it the time of year that i am wholeheartedly back on the boho bandwagon. in fact, the above outfit is essentially when i've been wearing for the last few days (give or take a pair of hasbeens i'll never afford and also i usually don't wear the crown to work, but you get the point). literally, i own that exact skirt, and it's been in pretty heavy rotation already this 'summer'. although it's clear i'm not too prepared to let go of my florals or pastels just yet, i suppose it makes a nice change to mix the look up a little bit. even if only for the folks at work (bastards).
do you have a summer look like me, or are you less maniacal about that sort of thing?
