Cherry blossom and maxi skirt season is a magical time in New York. It’s fleeting, as both the flowers and the in-between weather (warm enough to frolic outside for hours, but not so hot that you complain about it) seem to only last a few weeks; and we city-dwellers know it, so we find any excuse to spend time outdoors, to relish the endless to sunshine, to be unusually enthusiastic in greeting neighbors, strangers, the proximal.
A wise woman once told me that she reserve s a dear space in her heart for maxi skirts because she can resemble a lady without anyone knowing she didn’t shave her legs, and although, Ew, woman: shave your legs, I certainly understand her affinity (though I must admit that I love them for the twirling possibilities and the fact that you can wear a skirt without having ass-on-subway-seat syndrome).
Insert metaphors about spring springing, spring cleaning, springs in one’s step, etc.
Sew Fetch 
