"It Can't Be That Bad", and Other Lies I Tell Myself When Dressing for the Weather
I wouldn’t say that I excel at dressing for the weather. I picked out this shirt in late August from a rack of fall arrivals at Zara. My logic: “It only has a cap sleeve but I’ll layer it and anyway, like, the last three Thanksgivings have been so HOT! Didn’t everyone on Instagram even eat their dinner outside? I’ll probably get at least two or three months of wear out of it before it gets too cold.” Fast forward a month and it’s freezing (not quite freezing but it has come pretty close), and guess what? The thought of bare arms gives me a whole-body shiver–even if I am layering it under a sweater. I did the exact same thing with a pair of gladiator heels a few years ago–stiletto gladiator sandals, actually. I bought them for winter, naively planning on wearing them with a pair of black ankle socks or tights. Snow be damned! As you can probably surmise, they scarcely saw even a flurry. While I stand by my vision for those lovely but impractical-for-winter shoes, I forgot that they only work if your name is Gigi or Kendall and your outfit exists in an editorial vacuum where the weather is irrelevant. So here I am sneaking this cropped, chambray number in just on this side of seasonal sanity.