The Topshop AW10 campaign images are in. They're very tantalising and doing nothing to help my current state of transitional season limbo. What is it about this time of year? Outside the sun is glorious, the skies are clear, the pavements are warm and all I can do is hide from the heat in a shaded cafe for the stubborn sake of wearing a camel cashmere jumper. The editorials are powering ahead waving all these beautiful winter collections in our faces while we desire a less sweltering climate in which to wear them. I'm beginning to think the obvious solution would be a move Down Under. The southern hemisphere's season is more in line with what I'm calling the Fifth Season. The Fifth Season being that fictional season-the one always out of reach but always in the pages of magazines. Models prance in their shearling jackets and suede shorts just as the sunshine we spent all of the winter coaxing out emerges.
I would love to take the higher ground and refuse to let the pages of Vogue apply this 'always wanting what I can't have'' desire to the weather as well as the contents of my wardrobe. But you know, I'm a product of the whole system and it's bigger than me. It's bigger than me and I'm too weak to fight my dirty little sartorial desires. I too shall blindly follow suit and power on with autumn dressing lusting. And continue to toe that tricky transitional season line even if it means succumbing to layering induced fainting spells..