I have always claimed to not really love summer. It was never a season that I truly wanted to melt into. But in time, summer proved to be a slow burn for me. I needed to learn how to live in the heat. To fall in love with all that the season had to offer beyond sweltering afternoons and the feeling that there was nothing to do. I needed to plunge into the sea and let the salt linger on my skin and in my hair. To grow into a person who loves heirloom tomatoes and linen dresses and the feeling of sunkissed skin over warm late night dinners. I simply did not know how to love summer. But now I do.

A summertime escape to Europe. From crystal clear waters in Croatia to slow living in Portugal, this little photographic tour is worth melting into.

July always feels extra nostalgic for me. Memories of the long days of summer from my childhood sometimes seem to be the most vivid. The scent of sunscreen and a slight tint of green in my hair from afternoons submerged in chlorine, the beauty of sun-ripened strawberries and homemade pies, and sprinklers in the yard and the taste of water from the tightly coiled green garden hose. I can play horseback gallops and diving board moments in my head on a loop as though watching family video tapes with an old VCR. Memories that flicker, at times, so clearly that I feel as though I could reach out and touch them.

I love a movie night. A girls night, slumber party, game night… I love any excuse to host, really. But I especially love a cozy movie night-in. They are without a doubt, some of my absolute favorites. The kind of nights that make you think ‘I really needed that!’ Chock-full of moments that feed one's soul and ignite a sense of nourishment that no meal alone could ever supply. Nights such as these are rich and divine simply because they are built upon the foundation of beautiful friendships, a lifetime of memories and movies that tug on your heart strings. Unique and exquisite elements that cannot be easily fabricated or manufactured as they are made up of life’s moments lived. They come from nostalgia and warm fuzzy feelings and a sense of childhood that is only a little forgotten. And they are the type of forever memories that I am forever craving and curating. 

Once upon a time, cheese plates were my hosting bread and butter. These aesthetic little snack spreads were my absolute forte, the only realistic way to host in my 380 square foot studio apartment with a microscopic kitchen and tiny breakfast nook. I would put together the tiniest guest list and dressed as if to go out for the night, we would gather round my café table, nibbling on cheeses and assorted goodies balancing drinks and plates precariously on limited surface space. These mini dinner parties are so deeply embedded in my heart and soul, a hint of curated escape born out of heavy desperation and an undeniable craving for something nice and pretty when it felt as though everything was falling apart around me.

I have forever been in love with the classic romance novels, with their tales of wooing and letter writing, dreamy picnics by the sea and petite bouquets of wildflowers gathered on strolls through the countryside, it is as if my dream life is being lived out by these characters. As I have settled more and more into my unconventional adult life, I see how much these fictional moments inspire me. How they have shaped my creativity and my life and how deeply I crave designing imaginative worlds for myself and my guests. It has all woven itself into a space meant for romanticizing seasons and experiences through nostalgia and tales of bygone eras. With summertime creeping in, the desire to build a feminine picnic with classic french faire and bottles of crisp white wine shifted from a faraway fictional daydream to an absolute compulsion. I needed an afternoon of sundresses under the shade of a lemon tree, Parisian inspired sandwiches, a bit of cheese, stone fruit and a salad that would transport me to the South of France.

The French custom of le Apéro is one to be admired – A little moment meant for living… A potential slice of relaxation and connection and a treat that is easily skipped over here in America. I have long been a fan of the practice but I am ashamed to say that I indulge in the tradition far less than I would like. Ultimately, it is an experience that we allow ourselves the pleasure of while on vacation, we become enamored with the simple charm of it all, yet forget to add into our daily lives when reality sets back in. When the work day is done, it is easy to simply fall into the to-dos of the evening, tidying, dinner, night time routine… The moment for one's self is skipped over. Lost in the tasks and procedures. But what if one or two nights a week, instead of jumping into the mindless formula of our day-to-day, we meet a friend for a sweet vermouth or spritz on the way home? Perhaps we host a mini gathering at home before dinnertime? What if we took the time to breathe and unwind…to simply connect.

It is this time of year again. The time when I start to crave riviera vibes, consciously curating a mental transition to a world of airy sundresses, perfectly worn in leather sandals and golden hour treats. I fell madly in love with summer my first July in Southern France. The Mediterranean  transformed the meaning of the season for me. There, summer feels more magical, full of warm late night strolls and dripping gelato and salty sun kissed skin. It is an intoxicating way of life and one that I am constantly reminding myself to emulate.