I could feel the beads of sweat forming at the base of my hairline. I tried my hardest to subtly dab the evidence of my beginning stages of heat stroke with the sleeves of my cute light-pink sweater that I was wearing in 80-degree weather.
I didn’t want to submit to the rational thought of removing my article of autumn attire. It was now September, and in my head, that meant it was fall. Therefore, I had to jump head first into the shallow end of all the fall-like things.
I didn’t realize that admiring the season of autumn was a “basic chick” thing until the marketing genius at Starbucks headquarters made it socially acceptable to only consume pumpkin-flavored food and drink for three months out of the year.
As the rest of the world of sales and marketing caught on to the profitable trend of chasing the ribbed orange squash, it also became socially acceptable to mock everyone who purchased the peculiar vegetable-flavored items.
My introduction to the term, “basic bitch,” had been thrown in my direction as I changed my attire from shorts and a T-shirt to knitted sweaters and tall faux-leather boots over dark-washed jeans in the same sunny Southern Californian weather. However, I proudly owned it.
I didn’t mind if I was widely and publicly mocked for something that genuinely made me happy. The sound of the crunch from the brilliant bright yellows, deep reds, and rich browns of the falling foliage always brought me back to my childhood. It was the season that housed my birthday, it marked the beginning of a series of different holidays from various religions and cultures that bring people together, and it forever holds the symbol of change and promise for new growth.
With that, I proudly identify as a basic bitch that enjoys the many simple yet warm and wonderful new and old traditions associated with fall.