Classic great worn L &R socks - just needing sandals - the classic combo above - a bit of great layering from some eighties Vogue pages below.
This started as a conversation with Liz, the newest member of our Hudson team.
We were talking about plants and the weather, the usual conversation this time of year, when everything feels slightly out of sync. She mentioned that despite the lingering chill, she was already bringing her dresses back out.
And that, really, is the whole thing.
There’s something about that moment, the quiet insistence of it. Not ignoring reality exactly, but choosing to lean toward something softer, something just beginning. A kind of gentle defiance. Or maybe optimism.
That conversation stayed with me. It also made me think about the people around this work.
Before I go further, it feels important to say thank you to Liz and to Dasana, too.
Dasana (or D, as I call her) is the quiet engine behind The Botanist. We’re a small and mighty team, much smaller than most people think. D has been with me for years now. Even though we’re only just stepping into our third year of products, I first launched the idea of The Botanist back in 2020.
She’s Australian too, like me - though from a different part - and endlessly capable, always somehow a few steps ahead of everything.
She really is the very best. So thank you, D.
Back to socks and sandals.
Dresses with fleece.
Skirts with tights and boots.
Bare ankles under a coat that’s still a little too heavy.
There’s something instinctive about dressing not for the weather you have, but for the weather you want.
Or maybe the one you feel is just around the corner.
It shows up most clearly in early spring, when winter overstays its welcome. The heaviness starts to grate, the layers, the sameness, the sense of being held in place. And at the first hint of green, a shift in the light, a longer afternoon, you reach for something lighter.
A dress.
An open shoe.
You let your toes out, even if the air still bites.
You dress forward, toward what’s coming.
It’s not entirely practical. But it’s not meant to be.
And then, just as naturally, it happens in reverse.
At the tail end of summer, when the heat lingers and the days are still long, there’s a quiet craving for something else entirely. Structure. Weight. The comfort of a sleeve pulled down over your hands. A chunky knit, even if the sun is still high.
You layer it in anyway.
Socks with sandals again, just because.
Because sometimes what you want to feel doesn’t match what’s outside your door. And sometimes, that matters more.
I suppose the trick, if there is one, is in the layering. Enough to keep you warm, not so much that you lose the feeling you’re reaching for.
A balance between where you are and where you’d rather be.
A small negotiation with the season.
In the end, it’s all socks and sandals, small, slightly contradictory choices that say more about where you’re headed than where you are.
And maybe that’s the point.
xRebecca
Above the layering look I normally go after - below an editorial version of a big coat with cold toes or rather ankles.
Above vintage fancy socks and sandals - Below just great gardening cozy vibes.
Below 1980s Laura Ashley layering - dream outfit.
