As we’re half way through September, a gloomy atmosphere slowly looms. The last stretch of the summer season is peeking, signalling a return to professional occupation and the like.

Don’t get me wrong though, I am not unhappy for the slightless bit. I abhor summer; the warm season to be exact. Experiencing cutaneous saline water flows resulting from the most mundane form of moving – walking – has truly never thrilled me. The sensation of my envelope frying under the sun has truly never seduced me. As a menswear enthusiast, the meagerness of attires on the men's side has forced me, contrary to my will, to choose the all-linen army over the t-shirts-and-shorts boys team. As a matter of fact, I cannot wait for the days I will be able to walk in streets clothed in a soft white drape and to flaunt the pure wool navy coat I bargained for less than a kebab with an Afghani shopkeeper in Paris. Though, I will miss the feeling of summer.  

In regions experiencing cold periods, the feeling of summer resides in observing the sheer transformation of your environment. As the season progresses, the stern, rigid expressions on people’s faces, inherited from freezing days, make way for sparkling smiles. Cities begin burgeoning with life. The time is for outings, festive celebration, and spontaneity. For the last few days marking the end of this yearly phenomenon, we shall recount the stories and memories we’ve just cherished.