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You’d think we’d just discovered a new color, and in the excitement of our discovery, felt the urge to display it everywhere, all at once. It’s darker than yellow, muddier than orange. It’s a rich mustard. Whatever you call it, it means one thing: Sweater weather is upon us.
A cornucopia of jackets burst from the depths of closets, under-bed bins, and dusty boxes. Washingtonians strut their stuff—quilted, denim, and twill—on the way to work and school. A little boy on his three-wheeled scooter rocks a sensible vest. A man and his daughter make their way to school in complementary boots. His short and solid, hers tall, the sort once made for riding horses.
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Patterns loudly speak their minds. Tartan and houndstooth and plaids of all stripes flood sidewalks. It seemed like this moment would never come. Throughout September the mercury hovered at 90 degrees and a “flash drought” beset the region. Coffee shop signs hawking pumpkin-flavored beverages felt out of place. A seasonal gourd was not seasonal at all. Would summer ever end?
It has. Dead leaves whip in the wind and rain quenches the city’s thirst. D.C. breathes a sigh of relief, and when it inhales, cool air.
Will Warren writes Scene and Heard. If you know of a location worthy of being seen or heard, email him at email@example.com.