As a Texan, I have come to appreciate each of the four seasons equally. In my neck of the woods, the summers are hot, the winters are (comparatively) cold, the springs are refreshing, and the autumns are comfortable—and no season gets more stage time than its allotted three months.
In Upstate New York, autumn—like a family’s middle child—is elbowed out by its show-stealing siblings. It’s a shame, because fall is the finest season of the year. For one thing, the scenery is gorgeous; who doesn’t appreciate multi-colored leaves?
But the main reason for my love of fall is the fashion. A few weeks into every school year, when the chilly air rolls in, I unpack my cardigans and light coats in anticipation of the autumn wonderland to come. The child in me can’t wait to kick through the piles of leaves—but the wannabe fashionista revels in the opportunity to creatively layer my clothing and create a personal rendition of Vogue’s September issue whenever I step out of my dorm. The plaids, forest greens, colored tights, tweed blazers, scarves, trench coats, turtleneck sweaters, peacoats; they all coordinate perfectly with the foliage and turn a normally groggy walk to class into a runway event.
However, before I let myself get too excited, I remember that winter will soon arrive—that there will be a day toward the end of October when I walk out the door in something light and fun, and then . . . what’s this? Snow? I’ll rush back inside and rummage for a chunkier, more practical, less attractive coat to defend against the cold. My struts will turn to waddles as I venture out and feel the sting of Old Man Winter’s kiss upon my cheeks.
There has long been a rumor on campus that President Skorton has a secret machine that can control Ithaca’s weather, making it more appealing to prospective students and incoming freshmen. I write this in the hope that, if such a machine indeed exists, he will take pity on me and delay the onset of winter for a few extra weeks. All my fake Burberry trench coat and I are saying is: give fall a chance.
— Kimberly Kerr ’13