I can't write any more Sunday bests conjuring the magic of snow days. It's gone.
Instead, imagine this: A warm day. The last of the snow leaving a grey spine of ice down the middle of the road, until it too melts. A day when the sun climbs high and warms the ground enough to evaporate every memory of snow. The same day you decide - although it's too early, still too cold - to wear a cardigan instead of a coat. To wear flats without socks.
And it doesn't matter that you're cold all day. Nobody looks at you strangely, because the entire city is collectively straining for that day when winter can be mothballed in plastic bins that are stashed under beds and in basements. And every little act, no matter how premature, is license to rush towards the birdsong of spring.
And it all sets off a chain reaction. You dip down into the ravine or the park for the first time in months. Spring starts to unfurl before your eyes; a verdant flame alights on the end of every branch. Each week is meted out with a new flower; snowdrop, daffodil, tulip, cherry blossom, magnolia, hyacinth. You dream of lilac days.
Products: Rose Noir parfum by Byredo | Bianca dress from Steven Alan | Poudre Signée de Chanel from Chanel | Velvet Gloss Lip Pencil from NARS | Georgian Flaming Heart Ring with Rose-Cut Diamonds from Erica Weiner | Brompton mini-hobo from J.Crew | Lanvin shoes my own (past season)