July Works

July hits because you’re either in it or out. Festival season, pond-dredging season, the nights where you throw your arms around whoever’s next to you at three in the morning and it feels necessary. You should be watching for monthly trend lists, but you’re too busy living, so here’s what actually works in July and what absolutely doesn’t.

What works: chocolate straight from the box. Potting new office plants. Calling your whole life patio season for a month. Swinging until you black out. Cheap boomboxes. Visible abs on people who actually move. Every neon color. The festivals worth going to. Telling strangers they look beautiful and meaning it. Breakfast that lasts three hours. Clothes that breathe. Taking photos of literally everything. Spilling cheap beer on overdressed people. Hugging the people you love. Beanies even in heat. Wedge heels making sense.

Uncontrollable laughter. Hamburg in summer. Dubstep somehow still working. Graffiti nail polish. Flavored tobacco. Playing stupid while thinking clearly. Rubber boots in the heat. That moment when you’re totally sure of yourself. Sex that wears you out. Japanese everything. Eyes that match what you’re wearing. Grilling whatever’s frozen. The exact landscape of attraction. Knowing secret formulas nobody should know.

What doesn’t: chronic sniffles. When drugs become a job. Sunburned eyelids. Loud slurping. Stealing weed from retirees. That empty feeling. Canned beer. Pit stains. Your chest locking up. Small talk that goes nowhere. Bed at 10 PM in July. Umbrellas. Puking next to the toilet. Legs spread on transit. American television. Illegal streaming. Internet that actually destroys your life. Saying swag without irony. Whatever social network is new this month.

Some actor’s face on everything. Things that smell wrong. People performing their beliefs. Soggy situations. When someone’s clearly faking an accident. Bad kissing. Ignoring care homes when you’re wasted. Neighbors fucking loudly. Plastic everywhere. X-O kisses. Sad minor characters. Looking at yourself during the comedown.