In short: I didn’t buy anything and everything is fine.

On why

There’s a meteoropathic element in me, the psychological side, not the physical weather pain.

Growing up in a brimming town on the Italian Riviera made me a summer type of girl: summers of my youth were my most glorious times. Living in humid, tropical, scorching Miami has made me face the summer months as if I were in apnea, in the eternal longing for the best season which, in the Southern Riviera, starts middle of October (when Joe’s Stone Crabs opens and the Antique Market in Lincoln Rd. begins) and officially in November when hurricane season is over.

Could it also be that when we are young we are in the spring and summer seasons of our lives and when we turn 50 we are in the fall? I don’t mean to taint it grim, I love the fall and the foliage that doesn’t really happen in Miami, but I can watch When Harry met Sally and Gilmore Girls and voilà.

Could it also be that when we are young we are in the spring and summer seasons of our lives and when we turn 50 we are in the fall? I don’t mean to taint it grim, I love the fall and the foliage that doesn’t really happen in Miami, but I can watch When Harry met Sally and Gilmore Girls and voilà.

What did I wear?

My closet, pretty much. I am as simple as pane e mortadella.

Some pieces were upcycled, swapped, sent to Thredup to then buying the same ones but new (that’s why I can say I haven’t bought anything).

What’s next

My favorite season of all and the wardrobes have been already switched, summer in the suitcase, winter out.