Thursday, August 12, 2010

she's such a brat and I'm packing her cigarettes







The photographer of these golden syrup images is seventeen. And she's just shot the latest Diesel campaign. Moving on.

Summer time. Almost here. And always mythologised in my mind, a place of endless golden days, dripping ice-cream cones, the shock of diamond-cold surf and the tang of sunscreen mingling with salt on skin. Cicadas loud at night. Heat so heavy it draws you down, pulls you out like taffy, makes you squint even in the dark of night. Everything outdoors- movies, meals, laughter, drinking wine in gutters, reading under dappled leaves. Short shorts with torn cuffs, pastel denim, old lace shirts and long gauzy Edardian dresses. Leather sandals. Braided sun-bleached hair. 

Then the reality sets in around Christmas time: of sweating all the time, of sunburn so hot and angry it smarts when you glance at it, too hot to eat, too hot to sit on a bus or walk anywhere or even eat ice-cream. It burns burns burns.

So, for now, I'll continue to daydream and try on every item of summer wear in the ole Ikea wardrobe. This summer the swimwear will be vintage one-pieces, the headwear will be a straw fedora, the footwear will be clapped-out leather sandals, the days will be filled with friends and the satisfaction of finishing a first chapter. But for today, an afternoon destined to be full of words on technology and blogging. That I actually have words to say on these new matters is in itself a small miracle. Onwards, ever onwards.

2 comments:

  1. I soooo totally relate to this post. hahaha

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  2. Reading this made me happy. Both on the inside and outside. I long for that sting of suncream and salt water in the eyes.

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