Wandering past Gramercy Park earlier this week, I was overwhelmed by the sudden emergence of nature’s first greens and golds. And peaches and pinks and creams and butters and lavenders.

God, I miss the colors when they’re gone.

 So springtime has returned to our city, and as a lifetime fan of Weather In Which It’s Appropriate To Wear Shorts, I welcome it back with wide-open windows. I’ve already started itching to trade in my heavy wools and dark denims for some soft, breezy cottons and 73’ degrees in the shade, and this year, for a new bloom of sartorial inspiration, I’m looking to my favorite pomologist (and yours, I’m sure), the sublime U.P. Hedrick.

Hedrick’s seminal work, 1917’s The Peaches of New York, is one of the most amazing books I’ve never owned (first editions are usually start in the mid-hundreds), but it’s full of what I am certain are among the finest illustrations of stone fruit ever committed to paper. Seriously, the plates in Peaches are all ridiculously beautiful and I dare you to look at his portraits of Waddells and Admiral Deweys and Red Cheek Melocotons and not immediately feel the urge to slap on some sandals and dash off to the farmers’ market to check out the season’s first orchard haul.

Now I know the glossies are all screaming that neon is the next “thing for spring” or whatever, but for me, right now nothing says springtime louder than a palette of peach, cream, mint, and camel. I also know that high picking season is still a good 10 weeks away, but it’s in the spirit of all the soft, dewy, sweet-smelling goodness to come, that I intend to spend the next month dressing exclusively in pastel orchard cammo. OK – I actually don’t know if that’s a real thing – but regardless, it’s getting warm out and I’m excited to dress for it!

(Full disclosure: I’m newly allergic to peaches, and there’s a possibility that I might just be looking for any halfway decent excuse to spend extended periods gazing at the forbidden fruit. But who’s to say?)

Bonus Fact:  According to Hedrick’s Peaches, back in 1897, The American Pomological Society named the Crosby variety pictured below for a cousin of Mr. William Bedlow Crosby – the same Bill Crosby after whom VP+C’s own Crosby Street is named.

Happy spring, everyone!