The Gatekept Guide to August
Nothing rolls over: a style directive for wearing summer down and minding the gaps.
I’m an impatient person. I hate red lights, Sundays, Thursdays, hair growth, nail polish, self tanner, the opening act at a concert, and Hot Pockets. I must be the first at an estate sale or I don’t want to go. I struggle to start a new book unless I know I have dedicated time to finish quickly…and even then I might skip to the end to get answers. My God, I need ANSWERS and I need them NOW. The only cycle I run on my washer is “speed wash” despite the fact that I’ve never actually timed it so I have no idea if it’s any faster than, say, “normal.” I googled the ending of Seinfeld in the year 2026, regardless of it being well past the concept of spoilers. (They go to JAIL??!)
One thing I never rush is the end of a season. Summer is not over, thank goodness, but I never attempt to prolong it. Some things must run their course. No more, no less. Spring was sprung, summer is summer, fall will be fall. Reliably, I wait until September to consume pumpkin spice anything.
And yet, August is reliably the month we all feel the most behind. On our social schedules and our bodies and our plans…if only, if only, if only.
The panic isn't coming directly from other people per se, because other people are actively at the beach, minding their business, ideally. It's coming from the stores, who put goddamn cashmere on the floor in ninety-degree humidity, and from marketing, suggesting the dresses we haven’t even worn yet are out of season, and from ourselves, in our frantic proclivities to get ahead or cure impatience.
So people do one of two things. They surrender early, reaching into storage for the coat and retiring their sandals. They far exceed transitional dressing by at least three weeks, hoping that being the “first to fall” wins them some sort of award for special, prepared people. The other group squeezes three months of pleasure into thirty-one days, risking exhaustion on a rooftop nobody really wanted to be on in the first place.
So some advice from a fellow neurotic…
Don’t rush the ending. Finish the fantasy, savor until the very last drop, but don’t stay at the party so long the house lights come on.
The State of the Month - August Directive
August is basically the Sunday evening of summer. Primed for end of season scaries, you’ll need to fight aestivation and optimize summer engagements. There’s a decent argument for reset behavior before the beginning of fall. But linger too long in summer hedonism and you’ll find yourself in a state of stunted seasonal immaturity.
This guide proposes the (slightly) more dignified third option.
By the end, you’ll have an August uniform, a short cultural agenda, an action plan for your closet care, a plan for the dress you didn’t end up wearing, and a list of things worth brushing up on before everything turns to pumpkin spice at the stroke of midnight.
Our directive for August: spend it DOWN. Get that cost per wear to rock bottom. I want that mini skirt you bought to be basically free, in theory. Go to a stupid IRL event that’s just people eating apples in the park. See that show before it closes. Use up your good sunscreen!!
If you've read How To Steal Style, this is the seasonal application of the same argument: good style is something you practice over time.