I’m still waiting for the weather to get the memo that we’re in October and not July or August, so in the meantime, I’ve decided to romanticize the version of autumn that lives rent-free in my head. You know, October before climate change decided to ruin the seasonal aesthetic, or at least October as I remember it from childhood.
I want crisp air, cozy sweaters, and the kind of weather that makes staying inside with a hot drink feel like a personality trait rather than a survival tactic. Is that too much to ask?
Until the weather gets its act together, here are some things that just feel like October to me.
- Watching a double feature at an old movie theater.
- Browsing a used bookstore and leaving with three books I absolutely did not need.
- Simon & Garfunkel, old folk ballads, and melancholic indie music that makes me feel like the main character in a coming-of-age movie set in 2004.
- A color palette of burnt orange, mustard yellow, dark brown, moss green, and burgundy.
- Old libraries with creaky floors, dusty shelves, and the unmistakable smell of books that have witnessed some things.
- Small towns with one Main Street. Blame Gilmore Girls. Actually, blame Gilmore Girls for most of this list.
- Gilmore Girls itself. The cozy fall episodes, the town festivals, Luke’s Diner, the rapid-fire conversations, the questionable romantic decisions. All of it. I want to live in Stars Hollow for at least one autumn, preferably when the leaves are changing and nobody is sweating through their flannel.
- Kiki’s Delivery Service, because apparently my ideal autumn involves being a young witch running a bakery in a charming seaside town.
- Apple cider, preferably enjoyed while wearing a sweater that is three sizes too big.
- Over the Garden Wall, because nothing says autumn quite like a little existential dread wrapped in a whimsical animated miniseries.
- Good Will Hunting, for when I want to feel emotionally devastated by a movie while pretending I’m just appreciating the cinematography.
- Handwritten letters, old photographs, and secondhand sweaters that make you wonder who owned them before you.
- Forgotten towns, dusty record shops, and places that look like they haven’t changed since 1978.
- Music that makes you miss a memory you can’t quite place.
Maybe that’s what October means to me. It’s not necessarily pumpkins on every doorstep or an endless supply of Halloween decorations. It’s a feeling. A little melancholy, a little magic, and a whole lot of romanticizing things that probably never existed quite the way I imagine them.
It’s wanting to live in a movie where the leaves are always changing, the coffee shops are always cozy, and the weather understands the assignment.
And, for the love of all things autumnal, can we please get some actual sweater weather? I’m trying to have a nostalgic, slightly mysterious, possibly insufferable fall, and sweating through it is really ruining the vibe.
