old hags' summer

In German, "indian summer" is called Altweibersommer, literally "old hags' summer". No matter how you refer to it, I find it a mixed blessing. Nice and warm (25° today) around lunchtime, but too cold in the mornings to go to work without socks or tights and too chilly for nocturnal open-air activities. At this time of the year, you have to dress according to what my Mum likes to call the Zwiebeltechnik ("onion technique") meaning that you wear several layers which you then gradually peel off during the day. [No-ho, I was not thinking of certain lethal forms of Japanese martial arts].

Although it's a pain in the neck if you own a wardrobe of 1950s-Hollywood-diva-esque proportions, I'm itching to perform the annual clothes-shift. If I wanted summer all year round, I'd move to Florida, after all. I do not. So, up go the flimsy summer skirts and tops, down from the the very top of the wardrobe come the curduroy trousers and woollen jumpers. Every year I look at my dozens of jumpers, half of which I have forgotten during the summer, determined I won't buy any more. For, like, 2 days or so until the realisation hits me that there are shades of colour which nobody had thought of dyeing wool in until this season. I draw the line at shades of tallowy beige and pastel yellow as they make me look like puke. Other than that: ready to splurge when the old hags are gone for good.