the textures of spring
a seasonal shift
I was born on a Sunday in spring. Sundays in the springtime move with the same air as a porch swing by the lake—full of promise and very unrushed.
Spring, to me, is perfect. Buckets of rain, rubber boots, and white eyelet skirts. Blueberry iced coffee, a trench coat, cuffed denim. It’s the season where everything shifts—scents, colors, the way sunlight lands on your skin.
A silent practice of pulling vases from the cabinets, filling them with lilies and tulips, knowing they’ll droop by evening but finding comfort in the fact that I’ll just bring home more tomorrow. It’s a soft cycle of renewal. I’m restless for weekend mornings in my worn-in overalls, a long sleeve just light enough for the lingering chill, tote bags already dusted with earth before I’ve even reached the market. Local honey, carrots, apples, berries, a coffee that somehow tastes better just because the air is little warmer and the world feels softer. Even if nothing has changed since winter, spring holds everything a little softer, a little closer.
Cheers for spring; for life; for growing a soul. — Sylvia Plath
I love so many things about this time of year. The return of floral scents and feminine silhouettes, the feeling of wearing something light and airy after months of wool and layers. I think about 2000s Ralph Lauren runway dresses, the kind that belong at a garden party where the wind picks up your chiffon hem just enough to make you feel cinematic.
I couldn’t tell you what this year’s spring trends are because I’ve been too consumed with searching for vintage gems that feel like discoveries rather than purchases. My latest find—a structured Prada leather shoulder bag from The RealReal—already feels like a staple.
With warmth rising on the East Coast’s horizon, I’ve been lingering on toasted pinks and reds, like this silk dress from Ralph Lauren Black Label. Something about the season’s renewal brings me back to childhood colors—bright, playful and unselfconscious.
With everything slowly waking up—buds opening, sidewalks damp with rain—I find myself waiting for the first dandelion weeds, the little messengers of change that appear after endless, humid showers. The thought makes me want to throw on my big green rain boots and wander through the defrosting grass. I’ve never felt more free, more myself, than when I’m wearing a long, cotton dress and rain boots, with little to no fabric clinging to my body.
A perfect day in late spring feels like looking through the C1 filter on VSCO—saturated, sunlit & just hazy enough to make everything feel a little dreamier. You know what I mean.
As the days stretch longer, I feel the need to do the same—to move more, to breathe in the season. It’s the perfect excuse to wear my latest fixation: a cashmere hooded open front sweater. This one is sitting in my RealReal cart as we speak. I know they’re very 2000s, but it's one item from that era that actually makes me feel very chic. The notion of taI’ll be wearing mine with a pair of well-worn jeans or a denim skirt, loafers or my Dries Van Noten suede sneakers (a gift, and one I love dearly). Even capri leggings would be so cute.
Spring feels like a reset, a moment to indulge in little rituals that make me feel lighter. I’ve been taking care of my skin more intentionally, more emotionally than before. The realization of aging no longer feels distant—it lingers now, something quiet but certain. Vitamin E and jojoba oil, massaged into my cuticles and hands at night, have become small gestures of renewal. Proof that something can be softened, restored, made new again.
I’m embracing change in small, intentional ways—maybe cutting my hair shorter, getting a bicycle, starting fresh with a bright new journal. It feels only right to begin another, especially after reflecting on journaling as a form of gardening—a practice of tending, growing, and returning. More on that here:
And, of course, I’ll be knitting my way through the season (and taking orders!)
Spring cleaning extends beyond my apartment, beyond dusting off winter sweaters and salt-coated Uggs. It’s a reset, a moment to indulge in lighter, airier things.
A few spring staples I return to every year:
Erborian CC Cream in Clair – A color-correcting cream that feels like a rich moisturizer but never leaves me oily. It comes out of the tube white and adjusts to my skin as I apply it, almost like a little magic spell. It smells lovely, and for someone who doesn’t wear foundation, it’s the perfect base. Bonus: SPF.
jane iredale Just Kissed Lip & Cheek Stain in Forever Red – This is French beauty in a tube. On light spring days, I want only the essentials: a little concealer, brownish-black mascara, and a lip balm that doubles as blush. This one glides on like butter and smells exactly like strawberry Lip Smackers. If spring had a signature beauty product, this would be it.
Diptyque Eau Rose – I love an expensive bottle of perfume. A scent defines an era. Spring calls for rose, sandalwood, lilac, and vetiver—something berry-jammy and floral, like a tart cooling on a windowsill. I just ordered a full-size bottle of Eau Rose after savoring every last drop of my sample.
Here’s to spring—softer mornings, looser layers, small rituals, and the feeling that something new is always just beginning.
I love this! This writing speaks to all of my senses and makes me feel good and calm. You’re writing is beautiful!
As someone born on a Saturday in spring, I approve this message