National Sundress Day

Day at the park by nastasha1996 from flickr

Winters in New York are difficult. We are a walking city and when you have avenues that are miles long, the wind can whip down them at horrible speeds. Overcoats and hats and gloves can feel like they’re made of lace when you turn a corner and hit a negative twenty degree windchill.

Going out is curtailed. People’s faces are hidden by scarves. There’s a blind, zombie-esque trudge underlying everyone’s movements. Colds and flues move into your apartment and make themselves at home. I know families that didn’t have a single day this winter when everyone was healthy.

Summer in New York is…a bit of a mixed bag. The summer is fun but smells can abound and, frankly, fuck August. It’s too damn hot.

But Spring? Ah, Spring.

Suddenly the light has a different feeling and we change our clocks so that the sun doesn’t set at four in the afternoon. Suddenly the parks don’t look like cemeteries for trees and restaurants set up their outdoor seating. Suddenly you can see people’s faces as you walk around and the sound of free concerts fills the air.

Suddenly it is Spring.

This time of year has long had a significant impact upon the human race. All of our holidays hinge on the turn of the seasons. And from pagan rituals to organized religions to festivals and celebrations, there has always been a desire to cheer the end of winter and the beginning of warmth.

For me, I choose to celebrate whenever National Sundress Day rolls around. In some regions it is known as National Skirt Day. Were I into the male body it might be National Bicep Day or National Shorts Day. Were I more interested in myself it might be Feel the Warmth on My Skin Day. And were I in the Southern Hemisphere I would just be fucked.

But, as I said, for me it is National Sundress Day.

There are hints of warm weather leading up to this wonderful day, and then, after the mercury has stayed north of 70 degrees for a long enough period of time, everyone breaks out their warm weather clothes. Suddenly the human body exists again in all its wonderful glory. Suddenly skin does not need protection just to be outside.

It is a celebration, it is a time for drink and song.

It is National Sundress Day.

Get out there and celebrate.

National Skirt Day

legs2Winter is coming to an end in the northern hemisphere, an event that has long been celebrated by our species in a variety of ways. The need to get the hell out of the house once the snow is gone and dance around in expectation of new crops and livestock has produced a variety of parties in a variety of cultures. A lot of religious events even get wrapped up in this most basic need to rejoice, for whether you celebrate the fact that your ancestors’ first born children were spared or that a Jewish carpenter came back to life, in some ways you’re also celebrating the very deep instinctive joy that comes with knowing that you didn’t starve during the winter.

I, however, eschew most of these other observations and prefer my own method of marking when Spring has arrived: the reappearance on New York City streets of the piece of female anatomy known as “the leg.”

The female leg goes into hiding around mid-October in these parts and over the course of winter becomes more myth than reality, disappearing into bulky overcoats, thick jeans and weird articles of clothing I don’t even know the name of.

But all that is over now and for one day I suddenly stop caring if I’m being a horrible disgusting pig of a man because praise Jesus, Moses and Superman the women of New York City are displaying their gams again.

National Skirt Day is upon us.  And it is good.

National Skirt Day

I think I know what I’m going to write for next week.  A friend of mine had an idea for a story that he told me about so I’m going to steal that.  He’ll never write it, that’s for certain.  He’s in finance.  And, as an added bit of trivia, he once got so drunk at a holiday office party that later that night he tried to walk through the Holland Tunnel.  The theory is he thought it was a subway station.  Good times.

It’s a lighter story than I usually write.  I could almost dub it a comedy, except I don’t write comedies.  I sometimes sit down and try and write a comedy but the next thing I know I’ve got some huge heartache going on or something.  The best I can muster is comedic characters…and by “comedic” I mean “smart-ass.”

But really right now it’s hard to worry about all this.  Spring is here.  I can get home, get my writing done, head out for a bite or a drink and there will still be daylight left.  Sidewalk tables are in front of restaurants for good now.  And, after a long dark season of bulky winter coats, the opposite sex suddenly has a physical form again.

I love spring. I love National Skirt Day (or as it’s known in the south, National Sundress Day).