I’ve taken the matter of seducing spring into my own hands.
I’ve been summoning spring since February 2nd when I found out that the hole-digging, fur wearing whistle –pig failed me. That lazy rodent’s dreary prediction broke my heart, and I would have gone after him were it not the same day as my grandmother’s 86th birthday and a Sunday. I dressed up for brunch that day, lucky for him, because my mood shifted. Instead of throwing a fit of outbursts filled with four letter expletives, I decided that my ill will would only prolong the arrival of the sandal worthy weather that I crave.
Yes, I’ve been spending too much time at the mall seeking out floral prints of every description. I’ve exchanged my all black attire for pastels and prints. I’ve become the embodiment of my mother’s garden donning roses, narcissus and marigolds on season inappropriate pieces. I considered wearing sandals with socks, but I figured I should wait until the official day of spring. On March 21st, I did away with body hair and planned a pedicure. I made it through the first initiative, but the snow storm that ensued left me discouraged for a few days, and not even candy coloured toes helped with the rejection I felt.
Seducing spring has been no easy feat. There’s no Cosmopolitan Magazine to provide me with all the right moves when it comes to enticing spring. I came up with a few moves of my own, but it seems the idea of doggy style made spring think of urine and yellow stained grass. For all the scandalous outfits, sultry scents and throwback summer hits I’ve tried, spring hasn’t even so much as winked at me.
It’s not my style to chase, but I have an insatiable appetite for heat, so I’m sweating spring—my thirst is real. It seems global warming is getting in the way of our happiness, but I will keep the outfits coming. I will fake it in this cold weather until spring makes it, even if it means catching a cold. Spring, if you’re listening this one’s for you.