About a month ago, confusing images started popping out in my Facebook and Instagram feeds: people wearing sweaters, cosy living rooms with blankets and lit chimneys, falling leaves and pumpkin spice lattes.
I swear I didn’t have a lobotomy, but it took me a while to realize that somewhere else in the World the seasons are passing. “Ah, right, it’s Autumn in Europe right now”. Like, I had to actively think about it to realize that back at home the weather was getting colder.
Living in one season all year long is very weird. Your memory becomes a one-dimensional mess of events, because the time factor suddenly becomes very hard to fix “Wait, when was it that we went for that hike in Bukit Timah, was it November? Or maybe June?”
You are wearing the same stuff all year long, the light is the same all year long, the temperature is the same all year long. It’s very easy to become confused.
I miss seasons, I miss Winter. I thought I would never ever say this, but I miss COLD WEATHER.
But most importantly, because I am die-hard frivolous soul, I miss my Winter wardrobe. Living in this climate, my style has become sooooo boring.
I used to love that sense of change the beginning of a new season brings, but there is no “new” to look forward to here. No new season, no new weather, no new way of wearing jeans, no new nothing.
You can’t wear jeans in Singapore, you would suddenly transform into a horribly over-heated and sweaty thing, like a piece of pecorino cheese forgotten outside of the fridge in Summer (I mean, some people can wear jeans here without having a heat stroke, but I’m sure they are replicants otherwise I can’t explain it).
I miss the jackets, the coats… I miss layers and combining textures and shapes, adding a pop of colour with a scarf… My most creative peak here at the Equator is when, instead of a dress, I wear a skirt and a shirt. Wow two pieces! Combinations! Yay!
And I miss the boots!! Ahh the boots… I have quite an obsession with those. In my head I have this idea of the perfect boot. It has to be a bit slouchy but not too much, with an almond-shaped toe and a comfortable-but-not-granny-like mid heel. My boots obsession started when I was about 20 and in 13 years I’ve had only two pairs of boots that resembled my idea of perfection (because that was what I could afford), both worn until holes appeared in the soles.
As for the really perfect ones… I kept sighing at them in my
daily trips to Net-A-Porter window shopping wonderland.
So one fine afternoon, while the sun outside was cooking everything to perfection like a wood-fired oven-baked pizza (mmmhhh…), I was contemplating my shopping savings* and I finally hopped onto mytheresa.com.
To buy this time, not only to admire.
And what did I buy? Sandals? A Summer dress? A hat to shield me from the 365-days-a-year Singapore heat?
But no of course! I bought BOOTS.
The perfect knee-high boot, like only Isabel Marant can make. Classic, elegant, comfortable, with that French touch that makes everything look so chic… (my obsession with French style is so pre-millennial. I feel old)
“I will need them for my Winter trips” I told myself. And click, off to check-out I went.
The truth is, as I type, I am still desperately trying to justify my purchase in my head, because I will probably wear these babies only for 3 weeks this season, during my Christmas holidays back home in Europe and in Tokyo (!!!) in February.
But hey, once you find the perfect boot you really can’t get it go…. Right? (still not very convincing)
And for visiting home and the dearest places you gotta have the best style, because you want the best photos out of it (really trying hard here).
And not only I finally own the mythological perfect boot, that I will wear for years because it’s as classic as it gets, but I also feel like I bought a little piece of Winter (OK guys this is the best I could do).
Still, maybe the only justification I need is simply that I really like these boots and that it’s good to buy beautiful gifts to yourself sometimes.
And looking at them makes me feel that December is closer and that I will be home soon.
I keep the box next to my desk in the office (it was simply too huge to bring home, I really need to remember to bring an Ikea bag to the office to finally drag it back with me).
Sometimes in the evening, after all my colleagues leave their desks, I put them on and I have a little stroll in the office. I close my eyes, I hear the rain falling outside (perks of living in a tropical weather, did you really think it was all sun, bikinis and coconuts?), I feel the blizzard of the crazy air conditioning and I imagine I am in Florence or in Ghent for Christmas holidays. Smell of burnt wood through the chimneys and Glühwein from the Christmas market. Home.
The count-down begins.
*Yep I have a shopping fund. I put like 50 or 100 dollars in there every month, so little by little I can finally afford the designer pieces I like. It takes ages to reach a decent amount but it’s worth it. The recent exponential growth of wrinkles in my eye area told me I’m too old for fake leather Zara bags and H&M trends. Saving pennies for months years to buy a pair of boots somehow makes me feel wise (please let’s not comment my insanity).