Welcome to Fall, my friends
Oh man, I romanticize about this season so much when I am not in it. Fall rules. The best things are in season in the fall from fashion to food. Like capes, and boots, and pumpkins and gourds.
I romanticize about going to a pumpkin patch in upstate NY with a bunch of my well-dressed and good-looking friends. Just imagine it: we’re walking around, laughing, taking photos - the other visitors are stunned by our coquettish yet indifferent behavior, our aloofness intrigues them. They love us, they stare at us, they follow us.
Then we buy a bunch of pumpkins and apples and head back to so-and-so’s gorgeous lakeside house, with its wood panelling and fireplace burning. We play backgammon and drink red wine, while listening to Rolling Stones on vinyl. Some people help with the pumpkin bread and the apple pie. I’m smoking a joint and talking about esoteric things, like life and destiny. It’s kind of like the Big Chill but in the 21st century.
Fall is also about long walks in Central Park as the leaves fall around you and then you walk into the Met cos you’re right there, so why not?
Fall is my New Years. It’s my surge of revelation. It probably started back in the day, when I would go back to school and promise myself to work harder than last year, to join more clubs etc. I never actually fulfilled any of these. I mean, I never do. Does anyone ever fulfill resolutions?
Anyways, fall. Fuck yeah.
That’s Central Park in the fall…yum.
