It finally got cold and dark in my neighbourhood last week. While that’s just how I like it, I know not to alienate summer people by celebrating: screw crunchy leaves, soup, cosy sweaters, got it. I do, actually, sort of get it: fat bear week is over, decay is in the air, we’re dreading what El Niño might do, and somewhere, some content creator is plotting to ruin sofa season with an awful new self-optimisation concept (“Forget the winter arc, lock in for the Shackleton shred: a single rusk and 14-hour sled-pull daily for three months!”).
It’s time to find some “glimmers”, which is what we’re calling little fragments of cheer now. “Micro moments of happiness that can flip the script on your day” have gone “pretty mainstream”, Grazia magazine said last month, but if you missed the memo, me too. I was busy spiralling into heatwave-fuelled existential dread when trend forecasters explored the glimmer concept this spring – it’s been a low-glimmer time for me.
