The mercury might still be hitting 20°C in some parts of Britain, but you aren’t alone if you’ve been gripped by a strange melancholy and a gruesome sense of foreboding.
The holiday posts are winding down on Instagram. The start of the school term is here. Your boss is back from Mallorca with alarming sunburn and has started to send ominous emails about “Q4 plans” and “smashing those end-of-year targets”. Ever heard of the Sunday scaries? Welcome to the September scaries.
Across the pond, The New York Times defines this as the “combination of dread, regret and anticipation” that accompanies the end of summer, which is mildly underselling it.
Every text I send that says “anybody want to hang out in the park for the last bit of sunshine” is tinged with more and more desperation. I’ve spent the last few days scrolling through bikinis I know I won’t use till 2025, because there’s nothing more British than convincing yourself an overcast day with mild wind is perfect tanning weather.
It seems like everyone is feeling a little stressed and anxious: Google searches for “how to fall asleep fast” doubled last week, according to Google Trends data. (Searches for the query typically peak every August and January, just in time for a new school semester and a new year.) In the words of Charli XCX on Monday: “Goodbye for ever brat summer”.
Why do we do this to ourselves? When I lived in the tropics, almost every day was exactly like the other – hot, muggy and sweatier than a sinner during Sunday service.
Then I moved here and was introduced to the concept of “summer”, a limited-period-only season of leisure, relaxation and fun – which of course only has the effect of piling on pressure to make the most of these sun-soaked months.
This year, I’m determined to try doing things differently. I recently attended End of the Road, a music festival in Dorset best known for championing emerging music, and stumbled across Aussie lyricist Julia Jacklin.
Taking to the stage in a suitably wintery long-sleeved dress and accompanied only by her guitar, she sang about the changing of seasons in life in a – dare I say it – positively autumnal way. Then I realised that you can absolutely lifehack your way through the September scaries: You just need to embrace it.
Did summer leave you feeling flat rather than “brat”? Was your Fomo from missing out on the Eras tour (or the Oasis reunion) unbearable? Is the slow creep of sunset, now happening earlier and earlier every day, sending you into a tailspin? Just accept the sadness – pull it in tight and give it a bear hug.
Part of the reason so many of us lie awake at night is because we’re plagued by the mismatch between expectation and reality, second-guessing how we could have tackled something differently – booked a breezier holiday, say, or done more work in the run-up to the new school year.
What if we just admitted that some level of misery is well-warranted, rather than fight against the tide by putting Google Flights alerts out for February flights to anywhere warm?
After all, there’s plenty to embrace about autumn. Remember hygge, that brief period in 2016 where every other book on the shelves was telling you how to live like a Dane (i.e. cosily, preferably with lots of cardamom buns)?
The term might have fallen out of favour – I seem to remember we all reached a collective low point when it was used to market vegan shepherd’s pie – but there’s lots to look forward to about the nights drawing in.
It’s time to brush off your dad jumpers, fuzzy tracksuits and ludicrously overstuffed duvet coats – no need to worry about sweat marks or squeezing yourself into a pair of five-inch in-seams (thank Paul Mescal for that particular shorts trend).
Telly season is about to start, which means more new shows and returning favourites than you can shake a remote control at (I’ve got my eye on the latest instalment of Squid Game and the vampire comedy What We Do in the Shadows).
You can throw out the disappointing salad recipes and start making soups and stews – soul-nourishing, rib-sticking food that even the best caprese can’t touch.
If the word “hygge” makes you want to throw yourself directly into the nearest cold lake, then go ahead and luxuriate in the summertime sadness. Put on your saddest Spotify playlist.
Leave that work email unanswered for a day longer. And consider this: If you start moping now, you’ll have got over it by the time it’s 10°C and below.
Zing Tsjeng is a journalist, non-fiction author, and podcaster
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