A fashion sense obsolete.

And she looks quite nice. Just as preference would suggest, and even cater to.

For what reasons compelled her to accentuate her fine attributes, to what end caused her to know she possessed beauty? Perhaps the self esteem that lets her know she's a supreme specimen. Her casual indifference exalts her. Her difference separating.

How distinct she stands amongst a feminine multitude. Each with eyes, hair, lips, noses, etc; yet somehow finding the intricate individual. No matter how many pass by, no one is the same, or at least seemingly so.

Or indeed something else.

Something more definite than boots.

The mark. The shift. To a new season holds much meaning to the state of the weather as it does to fashion.

It's really hot = Summer.

It's really cold = Winter.

If only it was as cut dry on this lukewarm day.

I tried. I did. To find a sense of seasonal fashion tempo to keep upbeat with the changes. The weather forecast was to predict the hot cold correlation, while hinting to the days decor.

They make sciences of it. Climatology. Meteorology.

I trusted them. I planned for warm layered expressions, only to find the warmth of the sun to be more efficient and prevalent than mine.

"But it was cold this morning....just like the scientist said," I Shamelessly, and even sadly thought.

Jacket. Scarf. Hat. Now tucked away. An outfit left incomplete. A fashion sense obsolete.


The combination of seasonal indecision makes for temperature's indifference. So much so that I reside in weather not too hot, or too cold, but just right. And although simultaneously soaking in rays and basking in shades, I still notice her.


They take it all in stride. Not missing a beat. How do they do it? How do they know?