Editor's letter
"Back in April, I hit a wall. I was burned out and needed a break, but not the kind where I cram in sightseeing and activities and come home more exhausted than when I left."
Back in April, I hit a wall. I was burned out and needed a break, but not the kind where I cram in sightseeing and activities and come home more exhausted than when I left. What I needed was a holiday where I could spend most of my time horizontal—watching TV, reading books, and doing absolutely nothing. I didn’t need a holiday from my home; I needed one from life. And this holiday, I decided—because it was the end of a long, hot summer when I was having this epiphany—must absolutely, more than any other factor, take place in the cold.
Here was my logic: if I went somewhere warm, I’d feel compelled to leave the house and do things. I’d want to be up with the sun and out late into the evening, doing things. And even if I didn’t do all the things, I’d feel bad about it. I love summer, but also, for someone like me—a doer, an over-thinker, someone born with a permanently guilty conscience—summer can be exhausting. I can’t stay inside on a sunny day, although the burnt-out introvert in me would secretly love to.
What I should have done at this point was take time off right then and there—lie around, navel gaze, and recharge during winter, which it already was right where I lived. But then I thought, well, if I’m going to take a break, why not do it when the kids are off too? And then I thought, well, if none of us have to be anywhere, why not go somewhere new and interesting? Before I knew it, I had booked to spend the entirety of the Australian summer in Canada, in the dead of winter.. And it felt perfect—until it didn’t.
"What I needed was a HOLIDAY where I could spend most of my time horizontal—watching TV, reading books, and doing absolutely nothing. I didn’t need a holiday from my home; I needed one FROM LIFE."
Because then the Australian winter hit. I got one cold, and then another, and another. The rest of my family did too, and when we weren’t sick, we were nearly killing each other from cabin fever every wet weekend. And all through this miserable time was the looming spectre that after this tunnel of chilly misery was over, I would not be heading into the light of an Australian summer, but instead into seven weeks of minus 30 degree winter in an Airbnb that I’d booked without hope of refund (I know because by this point I’d tried to get out of it, many, many times). What was I thinking? This plan wasn’t me! I like clothes that weigh nothing and the feeling of the sun on my skin. I love a salty swim and frangipanis underfoot and jasmine in the air. I love mangos and watermelon and being able to bounce out of bed on a temperate morning and fall into bed under a ceiling fan on really hot nights. I love the beach. I cannot/will not ski, and puffer jackets make me feel like I’m wearing a straight jacket. There is only so much Bailey’s a girl can drink. I was filled with regret.
Luckily, summer in most of Australia doesn’t wait for the calendar. It’s only early October, still two months from the official start of the season, but we’re already into beach weather. This always makes me laugh because traditionally in magazines, we pretend summer doesn’t start until November. November issues are when we finally allow swimsuits into the mix, as if the entire country hasn’t already braved the torture of buying one back in September. When I was a beauty editor, November was also our ‘Summer Body Specials!’ (exclamation point essential), where we’d run all our mandatory SPF, hair removal, and self-tanning stories.
I guess this digital issue is 2024’s version of that—except instead of telling you how to remove your hair, we’re here to talk about how to keep it (scroll ahead for “Questions You May Have Now That Pubic Hair is Back”). And we’re releasing it in real time instead of waiting for the ‘official’ start of the season. The sun is out, after all, and if we start now I figure I can squeeze in an entire faux summer before heading off into my endless winter.
See you at the beach.
Justine x
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