Summer in February

All the sunscreens on the shelf had lied through their nozzles. Whether it was a cheap, runny one that was light on my pocket and thin on my skin or a quality product (something that I had to break my piggy bank for), I had tried everything and tanned. My mother was very close to calling me a crow’s offspring, may be she even did, once or twice. Nevertheless it was time. Summer was here again.

I woke up craving for ripe and raw mangoes, holidays, bum shorts and beaches. I can’t be blamed for wanting them. I was born wild and free like the Sun himself. I was a May child. This is probably why I disagree with most people on their favourite seasons. I hear them say monsoons or winters, I tune them out. It’s not worth listening to the load about the sweet smelling rain and hot, oily samosas from a street vendor. In my opinion, monsoons are slush and ugly grey clouds, while winters should exclusively be saved for hibernation.

The problem with summers is that, they are not planned, by nature or by us. Some of us crib about the heat, the way our hair is about 10 times bigger, sweat patches, forced family holidays and planning things. I for one enjoy planning and this unannounced summer, I’m starting out by putting together some outfits for an impending holiday to a tropical land and to feel fun through the season.
For a start, I’m hunting down this chic, summer outfit posted by a fellow Statigram-er. 

If I can't find it to buy it, like a true Indian, I'm going to haunt a tailor till he stitches right.
A girl wants what a girl wants!

 What are you planning for the summer?