There are few things more poetic than an Australian Summer. Just as New York Winters take me back to the 90s (and the good old days of aspiring to be Carolyn Bessette), the long awaited December-to-February in Sydney manages to channel some early 80s: a little too much Sun, even more sunscreen and sea salt on the side, oversaturated blues, fresh greens, long days, hot nights (mosquito bites), hot feet on hot bitumen on the way to buy hot Chai and wishing you’d bought a cold smoothie, making a cold smoothie, eating all the mangoes before you get around to making the cold smoothie, ABBA mixtapes, walking the dogs, Bondi to Bronte and back again (Tamarama when it’s not too rough), sandy hair, sweaty sunsets and rolling out of salty white sheets to start all over again.
Ironically, I’ve never had the Australian Summer. I’ve always been working, or studying, or in a different country freezing my face off.
I like it.
Perhaps I’ll just move to New York when it starts getting cold…
(All snaps via @margaret__zhang on Instagram)