“I told the doctor I broke my leg in two places. He told me to quit going to those places.” - Henry Youngman

Coming, as I did, from rural Scotland...and average summer temperatures that were downright nippy...I've never managed to fully acclimatize myself to days, like today, when the temperature is in the mid-90's and the heat index is hovering between 100 and 106. One...hundred...and...six...degrees. That's something you see in a cookbook..."simmer, at 106 degrees, for 30 minutes"...not something you actually try and wade through.

In prior years I've attempted to battle my way through the heat...wearing tights and pants...morphing from a cold weather short skirt wearer to a warm weather shroud wearer simply because I'm not a fan of my stems in the cold (metaphorically that is), cruel, light of day...unassisted by a comforting layer of black opaque lycra. But this year, for whatever reason, I've decided to take the plunge. Do I still have as many scuffs and bruises as a 10 year old boy? Yes. Am I still pale enough to worry about people walking behind me yelling "bring out your dead"? Yes, that too. But, as the Walrus said, "the time has come"...and, if my nerve fails, I still have those shapeless pants lurking in my closet somewhere...


Dress - H&M, gladiators - Tod's, 1930's necklace with perfume holder and tassel


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