SUMMER ABC
The summer has begun and cannot last long enough. We capture it in 26 letters from the N of Neymar's tuft to the W of carrot juice for the best brown.
I've never been there, but there are few places that carry the sun within them more. Acapulco and cold don't go together, those are just two incompatible concepts.
It has only existed for a year, but there are women who can't imagine how they ever lived without it. I confess.
Do you dream of a beach tent with historical aspirations? Let it start with a C. That seems to carry good karma.
Both in yellow and red variants because the banana and strawberry are still fighting for the top position. I always order the strawberry. Fewer calories, duh.
Because man oh man oh man, how long have we waited to lie flat on the beach.
The tastiest, lightly sparkling water under the sun.
Once for lesbian, sandal-wearing tourists, but Mykonos is biting Ibiza in the neck, and on Santorini, you have the most beautiful sunsets. Willem-Alexander may have been a bit foolish once, but he understood this damn well.
Vacation chewing gum available in every country where the sun shines. That it loses all its flavor after five minutes, I won't hold against it.
And especially from the girl from... Is she still so tall, slender, young, and lovely?
On the terrace of your hotel room, please.
No matter how often we complain about little legroom and boring sandwiches, floating in the air with our blue swans and mature flight attendants remains the best. Upgrades are no problem.
Also, the K of Kieft, the biography we all devoured this summer. Think Wim, half a million euros evaporated on coke, sadness, and one of the most likeable footballers ever. Are you going to look in the mirror for a long time now, Wim, and see how FUN you are?
It was enormous for a while last century but, admit it, there's hardly anything better than sipping cocktails on your lazy behind and listening to Café del Mar Otto. The Look of Love by Dusty Springfield should be on repeat.
The big calm, of course. Thank you.
The Brazilian wonder striker may have been injured, and thus his team didn't become world champion, but thanks to him, all Spanish José’s, Greek Jorgos, and Italian Francesco’s have a weird blonde tuft this summer.
In my case, to The Hamptons, Francis Ford Coppola's hotel in Belize, getting bored to death in the Seychelles (seems nice), eating the catch of the day on the same terrace as Mick Jagger and Beyonce in St Barths, sleeping in Chateau Marmont in LA, and driving a convertible down Santa Monica Boulevard....
Olive trees, coniferous trees, I’m fine with it all. But a vacation is only a vacation with a boulevard lined with palm trees. Period.
When you hear that, you know you're in for a good night. Or not, of course. It's all just a matter of perspective.
The first time alone to Juan les Pins. No private jet can compare.
Haste is not in your vocabulary right now, and yes, it's also the Caribbean hit by Elvis Crespo.
Still, 365 days a year, the ultimate beach feeling from the low countries.
From ‘guys, how bad we have it” to ‘The dolce far niente”, anyone got another cliché to offer?
For me, it's really the time of year. Vacation, vacation, vacation, the sun and the wind in my hair.
Start a few weeks in advance and keep it up every day. Believe me. You won't get a prettier and healthier tan.
You probably will never go inside, but really, you will find everything you can't even imagine for the perfect picnic or garden party. For twenty euros, you bring summer into your home.
Get some freshly shucked oysters, mussels, buy a good bottle of white wine, and realize that the Netherlands isn't so bad after all.
Leco and your hair will also be very happy about it.
