thrill of the chill

This is going to sound like an obnoxious love letter, but I've come to terms with that quite easily. I have so much self love, it is easily spared on behalf of my other passions.

I love fall.

Absolutely, I shed invisible tears (not going to ruin my makeup now, am I?) every time I pack away my bright sundresses and shorts which have little to no hope transitioning in the bitter Toronto September weather. You can ask my roommates for proof of the tales of late night whelps and whimpers from the walk in closet - it's never easy to say goodbye. Summer air just feels like light, airy freedom. But seasons must change, Starbucks orders cannot be iced forever, and I must return to wearing real pants (gasps all around).

Until next year, I presume - unless someone would like to fund a trip to warmer climates for me. Even so, it's laughable to think I wouldn't justify a 'resort' season shopping trip for the occasion, so I guess not.

As much as I enjoy summer (and believe me, warm weather and a hint of a tan agrees with me), there is nothing better than the turn of season for the chillier. Fall is the ultimate fashionista challenge and it gives me pangs of happiness the same way some people stay up all night for a midnight release of a book/movie/video game for a rush of exhilaration of having the best, shiniest and brightest first. Being a cut above the rest sounds exclusive and covetable for a reason.

Anyone can look cute in the bright, punchy colours and the many fail proof combinations afforded by ideal weather. Now, throw in the complications of wind, rain and (if you're latitude-ally challenged) snow, and the entire process becomes tricky. However, if you're not up to the challenge feel free to hibernate in sweatpants all season. Just don't be surprised (or feel uncomfortable as you 'look comfortable') when I show up for a casual coffee in heeled boots and a full red lip.

Girl's gotta caffeinate, fashion slaves' gotta pound the pavement in stilettos. Nature's law.

I warned you all that this would sound like a proclamation of deep, emotionally raw feelings..it would sound better if it wasn't directed towards inanimate objects that live on hangers, but what can you do? Love is love.

The season offers endless inspiration and enough possibility that it makes me dizzy when I truly contemplate the gravity of the opportunities that lay before every outfit change. The perfectly fitting outerwear, the ultimate statement making scarf. All in the season's newest it shades. And let us not overlook the practically holy real-life look book known as fashion week. They may be showcasing next year's spring trends, but almost as valuable is the spectacle of style outside the tents. Overall, fall fashion is the beacon of which style is cultivated, so I obviously take that as a personal challenge to be as daring as humanly and financially possible.

For instance, do I really believe that red leather pants, a cape and some multiple dozen pairs of 'edgy' flats are really necessary to call myself presentable on a day to day basis? No, but my god is it fun creating a look and putting on that one bracelet, perfect not too chunky tights or the ideal blood red lip and having the last piece to my fashion puzzle. Like a closet-gasm for the best of us, there is no better feeling walking the streets and being stopped (by women!) and having the enthusiastic "I LOVE YOUR ____" comment. A day made, and all the credit goes to my ever expanding closet.

So I invite you all to revel with me in the joys of crisp air and bundling up, slowly adding layers to keep the cold away. Depression may spike in colder months, but if you start feeling blue, just go cuddle in your closet with some cashmere, and you'll remember why life is worth living.

Fervently passionate and overly dramatic as always,

Nicole xo