San Francisco’s fog is so ubiquitous and predictable that people named it Karl. I’ll admit that the five years I spent there felt a bit like one long November, and often I longed for seasonal indicators that time had passed. There was nothing more romantic, in my mind, than shaping memories around the weather.
But when it came to getting dressed, my grass felt pretty damn green.
San Francisco’s climate requires layering that is casual and open for interpretation. It’s utilitarian enough to make you feel like a big kid without actually requiring much thought or investment. I’m a layer-er by nature; I feel comfortable under several sheaths of fabric. At any given time in San Francisco I could don however many garments my mood deemed necessary with little regard for my bodily temperature. Human layer cake bliss!
And then New York summer descended upon me and I got really confused. How do I communicate with my clothes using so few words? Brevity has never been my strong suit so I employed the help of a seasoned summer mermaid by the name of Leandra Medine. Because if anyone’s capable of telling a story on a hot day it’s her.
Below she’s concocted three summer dressing equations for our literally hot bodies. Feast your eyes and then share your equations in the comments because I’m new here and need all the help I can get!
Collages by Lily Ross.