There's something so romantic about the desert, both high and low. And something even more romantic about it in fall. The weather is still warm enough to grant you the accompanying carefree attitude, but there is also a kind of calm that comes with the end of summer. The heat becomes less violent, the sunsets moodier. There's a kind of peace that, while always there to some extent, becomes deeper. It rains sometimes, often just for minutes, while somehow, the skies remain clear.
Dressing becomes a little less about dressing to survive and a lot more romantic. Long sleeves are no longer torture, billowy yards of fabric acceptable. And one's inner bohéme takes on a level of sophistication that the extreme heat of the summer often does not allow. This is the perfect time for minimalist romanticism, and I plan to take advantage of every single second of it, before winter calls for an army of coats and scarves...
Photos by Nikko DeTranquilli