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seasonal transitions really are getting the best of me


I don't know what it is about going from summer to fall that makes me so. goddamn. emo. Besides for like, duh—being surrounded by dying plants and the weather getting colder and the inevitable beginning of seasonal depression. But seriously, I love fall fashion (if only for like a week and then I desperately miss wearing summer clothes, RIP). I do genuinely love all the reds and the browns and the stiff tweeds and corduroys. I love menswear and wearing suit jackets and big wool sweaters knitted by old Irish men.

I would like to be one of those well-adjusted and content sort of people but I guess there really is no fun in that, is there? Sometimes it's kind of pleasant to be emo about shit all the time. It definitely inspires me to take photos and put together outfits, at least. And it's fun to indulge in the emoness this time of year, crawl under a pile of leaves with a hot beverage, and read Wuthering Heights. Which is where you'll find me for the next two months. (Another emo fall literary recommendation: Tennyson's "Mariana". The Victorians had their fall emo aesthetic so down, I swear.)

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