Searching for summer
the smell of changing seasons, the nostalgia of summer, and living the italian al fresco dream
If I had to pinpoint one of my favorite things about the human experience, it would almost certainly be my distinct ability to smell the changing of a season in the late afternoon breeze.
There’s always a day, right when the fatigue of one season starts to set in, where my nose finds itself tickling with the faint scent of the season that’s upon us, the sun setting in a certain position in the sky that seems to awaken the nostalgia I have for seasons and holidays of years past — the ones that shape the emotions and sentiment of time.
It was about a week ago that I received the message in the wind that summer is coming. Summer feels different when you’re deep in adulting— the thrill of sleeping in, melting your brain with cartoons and shriveling into a raisin in the pool are no longer the driving forces of craving the months of June through August. But all those things built the nostalgia in my brain for what makes summer so special, even in the boiling hot, nasty-wet-garbage-can humidity of Texas.
As a kid, I would tell you just how much I looked forward to the annual Fourth of July parade my grandmother’s mobile home park put on every year. Being the only kids living in her 55+ community, my sister and I self appointed ourselves Grand Marshals, leading the way around the neighborhood on our bicycles, the procession of electric scooters, walkers, and ‘94 Lincoln Town Car’s decked out in crepe paper banners, patriotic pinwheels, and dollar store flags rolling slowly behind us.
But America has lost its ignorant 90’s charm and as I prepare myself for the barrage of Instagram girlies jet setting off to small European cities and beaches, ready to make us all envious of striped beach umbrellas, an unlimited flow of Aperol spritzes, and perfectly swirled gelato, I can’t help but daydream about making my own backyard into an al fresco paradise.
On a plane home from Los Angeles last week, I finally joined the land of the living and downloaded a movie to watch. I’m analog, embarrassingly old school when it comes to entertainment at 30,000 feet, occasionally known for having no activity at all, unless you count watching the movie the person three rows in front of me is watching, perfecting my lip reading skills and usually wondering why I can’t look away at even the worst films (shoutout to the MAGA boomer on my flight to Los Angeles who, when he wasn’t watching Fox News Live and violently nodding his head in agreement, tortured me with a two hour slow burn movie starring Mark Wahlberg about the Deepwater Horizon rig exploding. Did I try to look away? Yes. Did I end up watching approximately 90% of it? Also yes.)
Upon panic browsing Netflix for something to download while still connected to airport wifi, I noticed a diamond in the rough of terrible, poorly produced, quickly churned romcoms— Call Me By Your Name. The ultimate literal and figurative Italian summer wet dream.** (see foot note.) One of my favorite books, I’ve only watched the movie once, despite having the villa it was filmed in on every moodboard in my brain about my ideal dream home. While the wholesome love story of Elio and Oliver is mesmerizing, a heartbreaking reminder of personal love stories gone by, Luca Guadagnino’s romantic Italian dreamscape is easy to get lost in, rich in nostalgia for a time when summer was filled with watering holes, living in your swimsuit, dog eared paperback books and messy dinners on the patio.
(the official Sufjan Stevens music video if you are unfamiliar with the movie and the vibes it evokes.)
I watched it on the plane, got home, and watched it again. The sounds of summer, lush greenery, and perfectly mismatched dinner tables reminded me that there’s more to summer memories than hiding inside with air conditioning. While my suburban Texas home certainly doesn’t look like an Italian villa, I will be spending the next few weeks on a journey to make my back deck a place for socializing and daydreaming, my heart craving the nostalgia of late night laughter, empty wine bottles, and the soft glow of strung up patio lights.
Naturally, I found myself on Etsy the moment the credits began to roll, eager to find those one-of-a-kind pieces that feel perfectly collected, a mismatch of harmonious knickknacks reminiscent of heirlooms to fill my home and dinner table with.
Here are just a few of the treasures I dug up on Etsy that would make any summer dinner feel special. The clamshell butter dish might be a must…
1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11
And while you’re living out your best Italian summer fantasy, why not dress the part? Here are some vintage things inspired by Elio and Oliver that I think are perfectly easy to throw on in the summer heat or late night when the cool breeze finally sets in.
1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10
And because no summer is complete without a soundtrack, here’s a playlist perfect for a hot afternoon, curated by yours truly.
That’s all for now! I have lots of fun things up my sleeve and plenty of half written drafts with cool treasures waiting to be worn and loved. Stay tuned!
Until next time,
xo,
G
**foot note**
(I think it’s important to note that I am aware Arm*e is deeply problematic given the allegations against him, along with his deeply deranged family history. [trigger warning on the article linked] It brings up the very heated debate on the morals, ethics, and complications of separating the art from the artist and the standing legacy of well loved films. I have very mixed, certainly incomplete emotions and thoughts regarding the issue, especially when it comes to movies that have impacted my life and personal artistry and work. The focus of today’s newsletter is meant to bring attention to the sets, scenes, and cinematography of CMBYN and Luca Guadagnino’s work.)