Saturday afternoon, I felt like a donut squished by the heat. Feet up on my coach, my fan in position three, arctic wind, and a glass of orange juice over ice being taken intravenously… and there I was, trying to get some work done.

The truth is that in a desperate attempt to find a spark of inspiration, I put on a slideshow of the Chloé collection. My mouth wide open, I dreamed of the new me I’ll be just in time for the leaves to start falling.

Samedi après-midi, j’étais comme un Paris-Brest écrasé par la chaleur. Les jambes en l’air sur mon canapé. Mon ventilateur en position 3, vent d’arctique, tu parles. Un jus d’orange glacé en intraveneuse…. J’essayais de bosser.

La vérité c’est que dans une tentative désespérée de trouver une étincelle d’inspiration, j’avais mis sur ON un slideshow sur la collection Chloé. Affalée, la bouche ouverte, je rêvais de la nouvelle moi que je serais à la rentrée.

The only thing here is that it’s still only July 7th. I’m still in Paris working, and my summer HASN’T EVEN officially started. Normally, at this time, I’m in the phase where I’m dreaming of Corsican beaches. NOT OF FALLING LEAVES.

Okay, so what’s going on here?

Just as always, it’s the magazines’ fault. Did you notice? Still three months away they’re starting to force feed us outfits for autumn-winter. Summer? C’mon, Garance, we talked about that in January. Where were you? I mean c’mon, all you have to do is keep yourself informed.

It seems that the runway shows are to blame as well. Right now, they are so much in advance and so easy to see (Thank you Internet!) that they give the industry and the fans (that’s us) time to get to know them, so we dissect them, copy them (Zara), get them through our system and are done with them before they even hit store shelves.

Ah there you go, just as always, it’s the Internet’s fault.

Back to my apartment, 115 degrees in the shade on my couch dreaming of wool-knit jumpsuits, almost going schizo now, when all of sudden, the door bell does its job : RING.

Right at my door, my friend Marion, sweating through her clothes, her cheeks red with happiness like after making love a lethal shopping safari. I look down. WINNER! In her hands, a half a dozen shopping bags that looked like gold to my desperate saturday afternoon self.

I stick her in front of my fan, give her some orange juice over ice and dive fully clothed into her bags to take inventory.

In a huge bag from L’Éclaireur, I grab out…  A giiiiiiiiant coat.

She looks at me with guilty eyes. She says that the coat was just too beautiful, that it’ll be perfect during the bleak midwinter. She says that no, NO, it wasn’t on sale. It was all well and good from the new collection and if she didn’t buy it now, next time around, it wouldn’t be there.

A coat for the bleak midwinter… On the 7th of July.

Okay good, only thing left for me to do was to head on over to Chloé. This way, come next September, the new me that I’ll have been since July can maybe start looking for a bathing suit for the summer after… What do you guys think?

Translation : Tim Sullivan