It’s the end of July and it’s easy to feel like summer’s slipping through my fingers like the sands of the hourglass. In actuality summer in L.A. lasts until at least September 30 and there are even days in October when I might find myself with make-up sliding off my face, sipping an iced matcha latte and scrolling through pictures of friends back east in knit caps and cashmere hoodies. C’est la vie. I love living in L.A. and seasons without boundaries is the price I pay.
So I’ve been toying with the idea of cleaning out my closet lately but fearing that no one is going to want to buy a bunch of summer clothes at the beginning of August. But I mean, I still haven’t satisfied my appetite for off-the-shoulder tops and short dresses so maybe you guys haven’t either? Still, I’m willing to shvitz my face off in my new bomber from Azalea, wearing it to the gym, pretending that I’m Gigi Hadid.
Photos by Mark Griffin Champion