Summer Style Notes: Days Past
Reflecting on what I actually wore, and a few thoughts about taking outfit photos.
Warmer days are budding in Melbourne1, and even though I’m still feeling like it could be snatched away any moment, I’ve optimistically started looking forward to summer dressing again.
Although I’ve come to enjoy the charm of winter dressing, I miss the lightness of dressing for summer. No socks, no tights, just letting skin breathe. Shoes you can slip into with ease. Clothes revealed for what they were designed to do. No need for that “just in case” jumper” in case it gets chilly. I know many people love cooler weather because they can play with layers and create looks, but I love the minimalism of hot weather dressing—there is relief in letting clothes just be.
My goal when it comes to summer dressing is to stay cool and look crisp, à la this particular shot from an old Lee Miller-inspired British Vogue editorial:
I’m also drawn to delicate elements—airier fabrics, fuller skirts, billowing palazzo pants, little linen camis, details like pleating or gathers. These touches are practical for the heat, but they also express the side of me that loves a softer touch. A somewhat nostalgic, dreamy feeling, tempered by crisp textures—beautifully expressed in this Plain Goods spring/summer campaign shared by
in her newsletter; it reminded me of old Margaret Howell campaigns, specifically the ones shot by Koto Bolofo that live rent-free in my head.If my winter style persona is “City Boy”, perhaps my summer counterpart is Tilda Swinton in “A Bigger Splash”.
All of the above is of course, a very idealised version of what I would love to wear. For a reality check, I looked at what I actually wore the past summer:
Taking and reviewing outfit photos is a useful exercise if you’re trying to get a sense of what you really wear and be more judicious about how you shop and plan your wardrobe. But it can also be dicey for your self-esteem. I’ve felt discouraged when an outfit I felt great in looked blah in photos. And when I compare my outfits to the idealised, perfectly composed images on my moodboard, it can sometimes make me feel bad about myself, or extremely motivated to shop (or both).
Eventually, I realised I was seeing myself through the lens of the internet—flattened into a photo—and judging it for not living up to the standards of professionally created content. Which is silly. It’s like cooking dinner at home and then getting upset that it didn’t turn out exactly like how it was at my favourite restaurant.
Now, I know that outfits that are artful to look at are not artful to wear. I feel best when I do the least, and I prefer clothes that let me to get away with that. And if I’m happy with how I feel in an outfit, I don’t care if it doesn’t look good in photos.
Once my eye adjusted to this idea, I was able to wholeheartedly enjoy the process of snapping outfit photos and it has proved to be quite useful when I started thinking about what elements of summer dressing I wanted to revisit in the months ahead, namely:
High contrast. I noticed I really like high contrast looks for summer because you can create a lot of visual impact with very few pieces of clothing, such as by pairing colours that pop against each other (black and white is an easy one), or building outfits around pieces that feature a strong, singular detail—e.g. a simple sleeveless tee with pronounced shoulders, a skirt with a voluminous pleats, a dress with a cold print, a trouser with a curved leg. Strong details that draw the eye convey a sense of sharpness, which is invaluable when I’m wilting in the heat and feeling anything but.
“American sportswear”. Growing up in a hot and humid country, wearing anything stuffy or formal was anathema to me—I can feel myself perspiring just thinking about it. This is why all through my life, I have always been drawn to fashion that embraced a casual spirit, and I can remember the excitement I felt when I read about American sportswear and the likes of Claire McCardell and Bonnie Cashin, who designed clothes for active women—relaxed separates, lots of cotton, jersey and denim—with a rigorous eye for cut and detail. The “everyday” quality of American sportswear is a reminder that as beautiful and interesting as clothes can be, they truly shine when we live in them. A fitting accompaniment for the carpe diem mood that summer inspires.
Robust basics. It’s always been somewhat ironic to me that the wispy, dreamy feel of summer needs to grounded in extremely hard-wearing, durable fabrics. I get sweaty easily, so I have to launder my summer clothes frequently, and I’ve noticed that pieces that are too lightweight tend to look very sad and limp quickly. A tissue-thin cotton tee may be very comfortable and breathable, but will it last beyond a single summer? I’d rather buy a heavier cotton tee that will stand up to lots of washing and still look great. Much as I love summery clothes with a delicate feel, in reality I much prefer my sturdy cotton and linen pieces that will withstand the test of time—something to remember if I plan to add any summer pieces to my wardrobe.
Do you have a lesson on summer dressing to share? I would love to hear it.
Summer in Melbourne runs from December to March.
I love your summer looks as much as the moodboard. They convey a person who knows who they are. 😚
Ah, old Margaret Howell campaigns! I love them, too. Also loooove Tilda Swinton's style is A Bigger Splash.
I, too, have felt complicated emotions arise from outfit pictures. I'm still mentally stuck in the social media frame of mind when it comes to outfit pics, but hopefully that will change one day.