Okay, I’m numbering these because I know there are a lot more to come. Tawny may be a laid-back Southern California girl, but everybody reaches their limit sometimes. And sometimes, “sometimes” can be just about every day, depending on how the world is spinning.
I dedicate Tirade #01 to my favorite season, summer. Yes, yes, I hear your groans, even as I type. Everybody has a favorite season, and it seems like it is usually fall, or (horror of horrors)… winter. Spring is rarely mentioned. Unsure why. People just seem to want to bundle up, snuggle by a fire, walk in the rain and drink hot chocolate.
Well, I like all of that too… in WINTER! Not NOW! So, why is it that in the middle of August, the peak of summer, the hottest month of the year, I walk into a clothing store and I see… sweaters. Sweaters, coats, wool slacks, plaid skirts, etc. etc. It’s 100 degrees outside and I’m wearing shorts and a tube top, and I’m supposed to want to touch wool slacks, much less try them on?
My wrath over this has been building all summer. It began simply enough: Halloween candy for sale when I was shopping for the Fourth of July. Next, the futile pursuit of a new beach towel in mid-July. Nope. With the exception of a few unwanted Dora the Explorer beach towels, everything on the shelves was for “Back to School”.
I do understand that many kids are indeed already back in school… but doesn’t this bother anyone else? In my youth, Labor Day heralded the end of our summer partying and a return to scholarly pursuits. Now the kids are being dumped back in the classroom at… let me repeat this… the middle of August, the peak of summer, the hottest month of the year. If ever there was a great time for surfing, skating, camping, ice cream cone licking and barbecue feasting, it is now.
Adding to the injustice, it has been gloomy through most of June, July and early August, and the summer weather is only now really kicking in. But apparently it’s time for early rising, off to school, parent-teacher conferences, heaps of homework and every other ghastly school-related thing.
But I digress. After the beach towel incident (and no, I never bought one), I wanted to get a cute little string bikini for an upcoming party. What did I find in the stores? Fashion’s fallen leftovers. A few unpopular juniors. A scraggly offering of “Mom suits” for women who had given up on life about thirty years ago. In the end, I had to buy one online, and even that wasn’t easy. This was still in July. You ask anyone in a shop why there’s nothing to pick from, and they’ll explain in a bland voice, “You have to buy that in spring.”
When I saw Thanksgiving decorations in the stores in August, I just snapped. I can’t take this anymore. The stores push the upcoming seasons and events earlier and earlier each year. I have to try on string bikinis in February, when it’s sleeting outside. I have to try on raincoats in August when I’m melting from the heat. Everything must be planned ahead. Shopping spontaneity is gone. This is like having sex in the middle of a migraine just to make sure you won’t need it later when you’re feeling good. This is like bringing a pot of chicken soup to the beach in case you get a winter flu. Please make it stop!
All I want is to enjoy the pleasures of summer in summer, the fling of spring in spring. Let me fall into the leaves in fall and dash into a store in winter to buy a nice scarf.
I realize this dream will never come true. Just a midsummer night’s dream, I suppose.