I read yet another roundup of summer trends last week with narrowed eyes and my traditional wasp-chewing expression of disapproval. We are supposed, apparently, to greet this year’s “wet, brat, hot rat summer” with gladiator mullets, Nigella’s sgroppino gelato and “boat raves”; we should be monetising our feet and chopping wood. I hope you are taking notes.
What gave me wasp-face (surely ripe for inclusion in a summer trend listicle, along with my other key seasonal trends, this and every year: underboob sweat, climate dread, toenail shame and excess salt consumption)? It’s not the list itself I take issue with, except the inclusion of boats, which are hateful. It’s the idea that July and August are so special that we need instructions to ensure we are doing them right.
