I only own one pair of flip flops. Just one. They’re not fancy, but they are mine – and I’ll wear them to the bitter end of summer.
Right now it’s late August here in Connecticut, and you can feel the shift. The mornings are cooler, the leaves are starting to turn, and my front yard is FULL of fallen leaves. I’ve already reached for a sweater more than once, and yes, I’ve even had to pull on socks around the house (ugh). But when I step outside? Flip flops. Always flip flops.
There’s something about them that says freedom, even when the calendar is hinting at fall. That soft slap-slap as I walk down the side walk, the way my toes stretch into the sunshine – it’s a tiny rebellion against the inevitable: that winter is coming. I may layer a sweater on top, but down below, it’s still summer.
Flip flops have always felt like the official shoe of happiness. They remind me of farmers’ market strolls, evenings with friends, and the pure ease of summer days when the sun lingers late into the evening. Even now, with the air cooling and the season shifting, I’m holding on.
Because once the flip flops get tucked away, it means boots, coats, and gloves aren’t far behind. And let’s be honest – I’m a summer girl through and through. So until the very last warm day, you’ll find me in my trusty flip flops, stretching the season for as long as I can.
