There’s a tangible shift about to happen. The air is getting cooler at night, we’re all heading back to school, tank tops will soon be replaced (or at least layered) with button-down flannels, and Instagram is about to be flooded with images of rusty red foliage and pumpkin spice lattes (PSLs).
Love them or hate them, PSLs are one of the official signs that fall has arrived. For years I have delighted in the majesty of the PSL. As a September baby, and as someone who lives for the vibrancy of leaves changing and the sweet, earthy smell of fog rolling off the water, autumn is my favourite time of year; these sweet, spicy drinks are a symbol of this shift.
PSLs have been a part of my fall routine for as long as I can recall. And for years, my fellow autumn lovers embraced them.
Then a shift happened.
It wasn’t a knee-jerk movement. It was a slow infestation: candles, air freshener, lip balm, beer… The scent permeated September, claiming the fall and catering to millennial female consumers.
I’m not going to lie—I’ve fallen victim to it over the years. Somewhere in the bottom of my backpack I have a pumpkin-pie lip balm. I have an unopened bottle of pumpkin spice vodka in my freezer and a container of pumpkin spice bathroom spray. (No, just no. Trust me.)
I also have five or six bottles of sugar-free pumpkin spice syrup that I stockpiled last year after I decided to make my own PSLs upon discovering exactly how many calories are in a PSL (not to mention how much money I was spending on my PSL habit).
And every time I make them and the telltale combo of nutmeg and cinnamon hits the air, someone inevitably judges me for it (even if it’s just my cat crinkling his nose at my cup), and I feel just a little bit basic.
The reality is, I shouldn’t give a crap what others think. I like pumpkin spice, so what? But I’m also not—I would like to repeat, NOT—basic.
I don’t post inspirational quotes on Facebook (unless they really speak to me on a deep level); I don’t wear yoga pants all the time (when all 15 pairs I own are dirty, I’ll wear jeans to do laundry); I’m not a slave to Snapchat filters (except that one that takes five years off my face—that one is gold). I just love pumpkin spice.
So allow me this one basic vice. Well, this, and my love of hashtags, because #sorrynotsorry, right?