Rugby + Tweed

The grass is always green on the other side. I do not think that this cliche applies to anything more than seasons. When it is 90 degrees in summer, I cannot wait for winter layers. When it is winter, I cannot wait to shed the black opaque tights. Spring never seems long enough but the allergies linger long after the temperatures hit the mid-seventies, at least in the cities where I have lived ever since I can remember being ailed with itchy eyes and sneezing nose. The season that I cannot get enough of is – total shocker, I know – autumn.

Even thought it is a solid five months away, I am planning my autumn wardrobe and associated activities now. Corduroy? Yes. Wine accessories? Absolutely. Tweed? You know it. I imagine this year’s aesthetic to be 1980s Ralph Lauren ad. Tired: apple orchard and the pumpkin patch visits. Inspired: taking a weekend for a historic hotel, preferably in Virginia wine country.

What does my fall aesthetic mean to me specifically? It breaks down as such: tweed mini skirt (this one will do), tweed of a different pattern coat or blazer (like this one or this one as seen on the blog here), brown or oxblood boots, and the piece de la resistance, a rugby shirt, preferably one of my husband’s.

Something about a rugby shirt reminds me of a back-to-school wardrobe and the movies You’ve Got Mail and Stepmom. In the Venn diagram of these concepts, the overlap lies in the season of autumn. (See?! Chick flicks train us to love autumn. #pumpkinspiceeverything) One of my biggest impressions of going back to school circa eighth grade was that the student council uniform shirt was a maroon and white striped rugby with the school crest embroidered on it. Kicking through a pile of leaves in Manhattan while wearing a rugby shirt would feel beyond nostalgic, circa 1998.

Rugby stripes for her –

Rugby stripes for him –

Tweed skirts –

Tweed coats –

Boots –

 

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