The autumnal equinox (which is Sept. 22 this year) may technically mark the first day of fall, but practically (or egocentrically), my first day of fall is whenever I don one of my many wool-blend coats and a pair of tights, which in fact started yesterday. The chill in the air is unmistakable now; insisting to wear flip-flops (which I did early this week) is delusional, vain attempts to stretch summer beyond her means. Of course, with hardly anyone else wearing fall clothes this week (except stylish Susie, whom I take fashion cues from), I stick out a bit, but hey, no one is going to suffer more than me if I don’t wear enough.

Fall has come to be my favourite time of the year. It’s a time of in-betweens, of dénouement, of contrasting textures and colours. Though I’m not stuck on it (nor am I about to anytime soon), I would even like to get married in the fall. In terms of fashion, fall for me is the most interesting and worthwhile season. While a total skinflint with summer wear, I am only too happy to spend money on a new coat (that’s why I have so many), boots, a sweater–basically anything with substantial fibre or construction of material.

Also I have a fascination with leaves, falling leaves especially. There’s something sad, but necessary about this process. The moment when a leaf is just about to let go of the branch, barely hanging there, really gets me. I think it’s God’s way of reminding me that there can be no growth (i.e. change) without loss or cost, a truth which I’m grappling with these days.

Anyways, enough melancholic talk. Actually had a pleasant start to my groggy morning by discovering that my good friend thefourthpotato wrote me a long overdue email and finally posted something on his blog regarding his morning routine in Japan. Had a good chuckle but cringed a bit at some of his graphic and sensory descriptions.