Summers in SF: A Love Story

...and by love I basically mean hate.

There I was, standing on the corner of foggy and freezing waiting for my horse-drawn carriage  muni to swoop me up and cart me off to work the other Wednesday morning, (which I had so ridiculously deemed "no jacket Wednesday." Sometimes I seriously question my judgement) and I had goosebumps literally all over my arms and legs.

I was wearing my fabulous turquoise Ralph Lauren boyfriend shirt dress that I always get compliments on, and unfortunately had missed the most recent street car, which at 7:45 am meant I was in for a good 15 min wait.

For most of my life, a September morning meant shorts, a t-shirt with maybe a light sweater, and flip flops. Since I spent my growing up years in a climate that got above 105 on the daily during the summer, I have always been a bit hesitant to don a jacket and scarf during the sacred months of May-September.

San Francisco is quite another story, however. I love, love, love living here, but some days I think if my legs are freezing for a single second longer I will literally scream.

There is, however, a light at the end of the tunnel: September.

Well, so I am told.

The city by the bay is well known by the natives for having an "indian summer," meaning that a heat wave hits during the fall months.

Having this sacred knowledge, some gals pals in the ward and I were having dinner one Sunday night and decided to have a fall kick off party.

But wait.

Summer in SF hadn't happened yet! How could we bob for apples and carve pumpkins when we had barely been to the beach!? Blasphemy.

So, what did we decide to do? Throw an SF summer party, duh.

And we did exactly that! We chose the theme of The Hamptons (of course suggested by me. You know a girl has dreams of being invited to P-Diddy's white party in Southampton someday. It's going to happen. You just wait.)

People were invited to wear their equestrian best--with polos, nautical stripes and anything argyle.

It was a huge success.

xoxo