Summer Misses

Have you found anything you love this summer?

There’s something hopeful about summer (I was going to say “so hopeful” but honestly is there anything “so” hopeful anywhere anymore? Overuse of the word “so” —that a few years ago began to feel like a requirement when thanking someone in a text or email, like if you just said “thanks for your help” you were being a little curt—might be subsiding, sounding almost disingenuous these days. Though I’m starting to believe effusive gratitude to anyone doing anything nice at all should be a legal or at least karmic requirement)

Let me start again. There’s something hopeful about summer that makes me want to shop for clothes. The warm weather feels like a chance to start again, revise my appearance. Part of that is comfort—even here in England it’s just been too warm a lot of the time for my usual wardrobe: jeans, boots, shirt, jacket; scarf.

Maybe also there’s the low stakes in summer shopping. Fall and winter items cost more. With little wisps of cotton, sandals using less material- clothes offer potential escape at a lower price.

So (ahem) - I’ve become a recurring character at the John Lewis pickup counter at our local Waitrose.

I know, I know—Waitrose is the “posh” supermarket. We’ve got a Sainsbury’s right across the street whereas Waitrose is a one mile walk or, let’s be honest, a five minute drive away. When I used to be a visitor to England, a trip to Waitrose was a special treat. It just seemed so nice in there, compared to the freezing cold Morrison’s, cavernous Tesco, convenient Co-op. I’ve tried Lidl but just can’t handle it. Sainsbury’s works overall, and is like an extension of our house at this point, I’m in there that often, so Waitrose is still a once a week outing to look forward to. I shop the specials! I use vouchers! And, because the `trose (as Eric sometimes calls it, American-izing to tarnish the glamour) and John Lewis are the same company, if you order from the JL website (to Americans I guess you could say JL is like Macy’s only a little nicer? Is Macy’s still in business?) they deliver it for free to Waitrose. So once a week, as I approach the desk, I imagine one of the very nice and cheerful employees saying to their co-worker “Here she comes again, poor thing lives in hope.” My eager eyes searching the desk behind for whatever new item I believe will be the key to unlocking my future as a breezier, more carefree individual (talking about my actual self here. At this age, in this body, in this life - not the imagined one where I’m a character in a Jacqueline Susann novel). I give a tremulous smile as the employee places the white package in my hands, probably a knowing “bet that’ll be coming back” nod from the Waitrose person as I tuck the package discreetly in my trolley and go get some groceries.

What have I tried this summer?

A one piece bathing suit. It fit but was the most depressing green color. It just made me sad. Not emerald green that makes my husband say “Is it Saint Patrick’s Day?” but sort of a park ranger green more fitting for a vest and pants to wear while surveying a swamp or fitfully checking cars in at a kiosk. It definitely didn’t say “summer beach fun” or even “municipal swimming pool” so that went back.

A potential stage shirt. Now there’s this emerald green shirt in a silky material I bought probably on Kim France’s recommendation at least five years ago. For all those years, I have worn that shirt on stage. Any time I just don’t know what I can possibly put on to get up there in front of people, I have leaned on that green shirt. I continue to see photos— dozens of photos of myself, gradually gaining weight, the fabric pulling a little tighter—until I have had to take the protective step of sealing it into the plastic tub I keep for stuff that’s on hold, on its way out of my life. I just can’t perform in this shirt again, as easy as it’s been to wear. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me (“she last came around in 2021 and, well let’s just say she has a dozen new songs since then but shouldn’t someone say something to her about the shirt? ”) So I searched and found what looked like a cool (both in appearance and fabric) sheerish shirt I could justify paying more than I usually do for clothes as I would factor in per wear cost. It arrived too late for me to take out on the road in early June, so I was convinced it would be a winner. The fabric was beautiful, it almost worked, but the sleeves just took up too much space. I thought of altering them, cutting them off at elbow length and hemming but…the qualities of the fabric, a sort of burnout lace, would’ve made sewing difficult and…well, back it went.

Here’s a sidebar: Argos. Now this is the Sainsbury’s equivalent of John Lewis, but more quotidian. I’ve ordered a rake, printer cartridges, water filters etc all through Argos. One of the hardest things about living here has been figuring out how to pronounce “Argos,” with Eric drilling me —“just say it like you don’t care” so I don’t mark myself out as too American. Thankfully, with ordering online from Argos and picking up at their counter in Sainsbury’s supermarket, there’s no need to actually say the name of the company, except when the counter person asks if it’s “Argos or Tu (Sainsbury’s own clothing line)?” I’ve figured out I can just say “Umm, the first one.”

So they were having a Tu sale and I saw some bathing suits in the store as I breezed past the ladies clothing section with groceries one day. I went on the website and ordered two choices, one a sort of pattern in a cute fifties-ish style and the other a wine red one piece. I confidently went in to the Argos counter with my order number to pick up my package—one of these had to work. And at around £20 a piece, even if it wasn’t perfect it could surely get me into the sea a few times this summer.

I expected the young woman behind the counter to hand me a small package, just some wisps of fabric right?

She practically needed a hand truck to carry the bathing suits to the counter. When she hoisted a large bundle into my waiting arms, I wanted to say “there must be some kind of mistake— I ordered bathing suits, not a whole load of patio soft furnishings!” But there was my order number on the label.

Grimacing, I headed back home. I felt like some indelible line had been crossed. Had I officially become…a matron? One whose bathing suit was no longer some little nothing you could toss in a bag, but a full blown construction project - I half-expected at least one of them to have bones and stays and include a QR code to order my own ladies’ maid for when I needed help squeezing my flesh into the thing.

So much fabric. So much hideous fabric.

Back it all went.

A sports bra/camisole for yoga that looked easy and practical but nearly strangled me when I tried to remove myself from its tourniquet-like grip.

A cheery gingham dress with sleeves so voluminous they seemed designed to smuggle drugs. It did have pockets which can be cause for celebration in women’s clothing but that just added more fabric.

I guess there was another dress or two. A few pairs of sneakers have come and gone back, but I live in hope I’ll hit on the right ones eventually. Like clothing size, I’ve gone up a full number. The sizes are all different here. And they seem to have almost done away with shoe half sizes. I’m taking up more space in a world gone wrong.

It hasn’t only been clothing attempts. My solar-powered Tyvek lantern was a triumph. But the jury is still out on the effectiveness of a “cooling” pillow.

Tyvek lamps are magic in the trees

When does all this online shopping happen? It’s usually after eight or so hours of recording, then getting groceries, cooking dinner, watching a film. I’m winding down, reading Substack, and think…maybe— if I could just hit on that perfect breezy clothing combination that will take me from the beach to a stage in a corner of a pub. I did find cute sandals that work. There’s another bathing suit on its way, a gingham check tankini. I swore I’d never do tankinis again (not one but two pieces of wet fabric to wrestle out of!) but can’t resist gingham. We’ll see…

There’s still a little time to get it right. But I just saw a few yellow leaves in the grass; an apple fallen off the tree. It’s almost August and autumn will be here before we know it.

I think I’ll just go sit outside in any old thing. That perfect sunset isn’t going to watch itself.

Gigs to look forward to, no green shirt

• Sun 26 July London UK Boogaloo Gospel Brunch (playing w/Wreckless Eric & Lassie) free show 2 PM

• Sun 30 Aug Rugby UK Dean Friedman’s SongFest!

• Sat 5 Sept Norwich UK American Library

• Fri 11 Sept Cromer UK Grey Seal Coffee

• Thu 15 Oct Oslo Norway Mir w/ Wreckless Eric & Lassie

• Thu Oct 22 Norfolk VA Vessel Craft Coffee

• Fri Oct 23 Raleigh NC Mitch Cantor’s house concert

• Sat Oct 24 Atlanta GA Criminal Records instore 4 PM

• Sun Oct 25 Water Valley MS Tim & Susan Lee’s house concert

• Tue Oct 27 Memphis TN Listening Lab presented by Burke’s Books

• Thu-Sun Oct 29 - Nov 1 Lake Leelanau MI Lamb’s Songwriting Retreat

• Thu Nov 5 Columbus OH Natalies

• Fri Nov 13 Hoboken Little City Books info soon

• Sun Nov 15 Brick NJ Rosie’s Cafe house concert