As warm weather finally makes its appearance in New York City, one can hear a collective sigh of relief as coats and mufflers are shed. One can also hear the slap, slap, slap of seasonally inappropriate sandals begin to make their way up the Avenues.
What happened to dressing for spring? If summer is the most erotic of seasons, with all those bare shoulders and flashing legs, then spring should whisper of the delights to come. If one dons a tank top, gauzy skirt, and flip flops the moment the mercury cracks seventy, what's left to look forward to? Let's be frank, spring is foreplay for the orgiastic delights of the season to come. If the tank top and flip flops are on parade in March, what will August look like? Perhaps hot pants and a bikini top? As far as the New York City subway has come since its grimy nadir of the seventies and eighties, woe betide the woman who attempts THAT get-up on the B train.
Instead of rushing to undress, savor the liminal weeks when one still needs a sweater in the shade. Embrace an open toe rather than heedlessly plunging into flip flops. Try a skirt before jumping into shorts. Take full advantage of every daffodil-filled day. The bikini will keep, I promise.