Wednesday, August 23.
Lana Del Rey.
It's the end of summer, and we're ever so sad about it. Downhearted. Abject. Melancholic. Crestfallen. Low of spirit. An ache in our hearts. Mired in sorrow. Lost to ~the waves of our tristesse~. The temperature is falling, but only incrementally. The colors once bright and bursting and pastel are now fading, but only slightly. Leaves are showing the first signs of Autumnal wither. The little songs people sing and hum to themselves are dropping into minor keys. The warmth and color of the summer months is beginning to wane, and yet, bringing with it a poignancy and richness that, despite its sense of loss, is equally beautiful.
And so we find ourselves with an appetite for all that is sultry, saccharine, and saturated in color (will also take monochrome.) Desolate American flags. Taking a nonchalant drag on a cigarette. Looking very glamorous and very sad. Charming smiles with dead eyes. Old-school diners by vintage Cola-Cola signs. Cinematic, tragic romance. For sitting on yellowing, drying grass in a frock, flowers on our lap, and sitting with eyes closed against what remains of the sun. Consider this your starting gun on #lana del rey season.
