I was never convinced that was a hugely desirable look anyway, and apparently neither is the rest of the world. I remember the first summer I spent with Cassie, marching out onto her roof terrace in the heat of the day armed with magazines and bottles of lotion, specifically to “lay out,” toasting ourselves evenly on both sides like grilled omochi skewers, the caress of the sun on my back and its liquid warmth on my eyelids, so all the world took on a summer orange glow, the desirability of tanned limbs skimmed by minidresses and denim shorts.
