On the First Sweatshirt of the Season
In American culture, there’s a deep affinity for the changing of the seasons. Just look at Instagram Facebook or TikTok as soon as September rolls around: it’s a smorgasbord of pictures, videos, memes, and more about how excited people are to watch the leaves change colors, watch scary movies, and sip pumpkin-spiced flavored drinks. Well, here in Southern California, we have infinitely more evergreen trees than deciduous ones, and we’re certainly prone to the odd triple-digit temperature Halloween. That’s why, to me, the most exciting moment in the changing of the seasons is that first day you get to don a sweatshirt.
As I’ve written about many many times, I run hot. I sweat at the slightest provocation, whether I’m in peak physical shape, or I’ve spent the last month crushing pints of Ben and Jerrys and watching anime. I almost always sleep with one leg out of the covers and I permanently have the A/C set to the lowest temperature in my car. Most of the year I’m wearing shorts and t-shirts and still looking like I just got out of a pool. So, when that first crisp day pokes its head out from behind a horrendous heat wave, I jump for joy.
The first time the air feels chilly, and the bed is a welcome sanctuary of warmth rather than a prison of sweaty sheets and feverish dreams; I throw open my closet like the protagonist of a rom-com picking their outfit for the big date and I stare lovingly at all the sweatshirts that have lain neglected for the last six months.
There’s something so comforting about throwing on that first sweatshirt of the season. It isn’t so cold out that you need sweatpants, that stepping out of a warm shower feels like an unholy punishment, that getting out of your cozy bed reminds you of that first time you had a real job after college and realized that summer vacations had gone the way of the Dodo bird and the rest of your life was just this until retire at 120 years old or something… I may have gotten a bit off track there but that first sweatshirt is like a hug from an old friend.
For a guy like me, it exponentially opens up the wardrobe. No longer am I confined to shorts and the lightest material shirts I can find. Suddenly, I can look at a pair of jeans without bursting into a spontaneous sweat. I can imagine wearing a long-sleeved shirt without perspiring enough to dehydrate a water buffalo. Layers, sweaters, hoodies, chinos, it’s all back and comfier than ever. I can drink hot coffee, I can turn off the A/C in my car, I can snuggle up under all the blankets and covers without necessitating a load of laundry full of sweaty bedding!
Sure, leaves changing colors is nice, pumpkin-flavored things are alright, and scary movies still aren’t my favorite thing, but the return of sweatshirts is my favorite part of fall.
What about you? What’s your favorite part of the changing seasons?
I love sweatshirts! But I start earlier in the year than you. On they go if the thermometer hits 70 or lower!!!
Yeah, it’s 86 degrees at 4:00 PM Tuesday, or what we call WDB Time, but the morning was cool and foggy, and there’s been more than a hint of Fall in the air lately. Like you, I love digging out the sweaters, even though once again I forgot to take them to the dry cleaners in June, so there’ll be a brief delay for funk removal before the fashion show begins. But the thing I look forward to the most is the annual reappearance of our ancient set of flannel sheets. Nothing better than burrowing into them on a cool evening and feeling the heat build up around you, then waking early the chilly morning after and burrowing even deeper for a few gloriously toasty minutes more!