In case you haven't noticed, the sun has finally come out to play. Baking days where you grab every chance to leave the office and feel the sun on your face for five minutes. Long, balmy evenings just made for a glass of pimms and some outside space. Dozing against bluey purple night skies with the window open and your hand dangling out just slightly, too hot to cuddle up grazing fingers over backs and arms while you try to drift off. Bliss.
I think bloody not pal.
Suddenly a pair of tights can't hide a multitude of sins (and hairs), you have to bare flesh and, perhaps most uncomforting, you have to look at others and their bare flesh.
On the tube. Right next to your face.
I managed to keep a solid 80% of my own flesh covered every day last week (thank god for air con right? ) the joy of maxi skirts, light chiffon and pastel jeans. Let's forget that incident with a maxi dress that slipped all the way down my body under my denim blouse. Falling fabric piled over one arm on the tube I had to take myself into a corner, undo my entire top and give an almighty yank. I say I took myself into a corner like I'd found an isolated tube carriage with infinite privacy, I hadn't.
Dressing for hot weather really is a joy, so long as you don't have any real life plans that is. Tousled hair is just hot and heavy,finding any inspiration for something flirty and light when you've been in jumpers and jeans for six months is the hardest job in the world. Suddenly a warm Wednesday morning appears and girls are dressing for the club. Tiny shorts, cut away tops, sequins for gods sake. What's wrong with a sensible skirt and a sleeveless tee?
Strapless bras become a daily staple, sure you have to spend every five minutes hoiking it back up, they're either padded so high you fear you'll poke an eye out or so flimsy a paper napkin would provide better support but who cares when bare shoulders look this good... Breasts full stop make summer that less bearable. Vests are just an invite for nice tits talkback and lets face it boobs look weird enough when you're lying down, do you know how impossible it is to hide when it's so hot a duvet to cower under just isn't an option?
As for the rest of my body, should I tan? Is pale really that interesting? At what point during this bleak dreary year should I have started my bikini diet - clue I'm a stone heavier than I was last year, my thighs have their own post code and I'm going away next weekend. We can certainly count that one as a fail.
Don't be fooled into thinking finding something nice to wear is the only difficulty you'll be faced this season. Humble Friday drinks now take on a whole new expectation - you must be outside, you must drink something from a jug, something cool, you must drink so much to keep cool you're ten times more dehydrated than usual, ten times more drunk and your hangover will be ten times more unbearable in the morning. Drunk or not you'll struggle to sleep every single night because it's so muggy and sweaty and you don't really want the windows that far open in case someone climbs in and robs you. While the evenings are longer so are curfews, you have to wait nearly 15 extra minutes before leaving the house on a night out because a shifty looking group of noisy teens are loitering. January never allowed this.
Moan as I might though, I'm still not entirely sure I've convinced myself this muggy melting city is quite so awful after all. Feet out the window, tan drying on my legs as we speak, a can of pimms (what else) resting on my stomach , cheers to some sun at last, cheers to sunday evenings that feel like saturday afternoons. Cheers to a particularly great British summer, I for one certainly hopes it lasts even if my deodorant and wedge heels don't.