People are so determined to romanticize fall, but why is this? We romanticize fall because it gives us an excuse to slow down, revisit old versions of ourselves, and believe that change can be beautiful.
Nostalgia
When you’re a kid, fall doesn’t require effort. It means going back to school, getting excited for a new season, watching your favorite movies, the weather getting colder, and family traditions. As you get older, those things become less guaranteed.
You’re not getting field days anymore or trips to Party City with your mom to buy a Halloween costume. You’re responsible for creating the atmosphere yourself, which is part of why we romanticize fall so much through social media and pop culture. Social media resets this time of year, with non-stop recommendations of Gilmore Girls, When Harry Met Sally, Dead Poets Society, pumpkin patches, coffee, bookstores, and apple orchards.
Maybe we’re not nostalgic for fall. We’re nostalgic for the version of ourselves who experienced fall that way: the kids who would go on hay rides and try to guess how many candy corns are in the jar, or compete with other classes in elementary school about who could carve the best pumpkin.
Slowing Down
Fall permits us to be cozy. Summer is about being social, full of vacations, beaches, nights out, staying up late, and being busy all the time. It feels like an attempt to live every day as if it’s our last. Fall, however, gives us permission to do less. Things that usually would feel boring feel more intentional: candles, blankets, books, coffee, movies, baking, staying in, and slower evenings.
I really like the idea of our relationship with fall changing as we grow up. When you’re little, coziness is something other people create for you.
Your parents make the season special for you. They decorate, buy the Halloween candy, and help you carve the pumpkin (because you’ll seriously end up hurt if you try to do it yourself). You just sit back and experience the season. As an adult, however, you become the person responsible for creating that feeling, especially when you live far away from home.
You’re in charge of carving the pumpkin with your roommates and hosting Friendsgiving in your college apartment. We’re too old to go trick-or-treating, but I love to buy myself a little chocolate on Halloween to make the kid version of me smile a little. As we get older, we become responsible for keeping those traditions alive or creating new ones of our own.
Transition Season
Fall is literally a transition between summer and winter. The leaves are changing, the days are getting shorter, things are ending, but nothing is truly over.
Fall makes change visible. It reminds us that not every ending is a bad thing, even if we don’t know what comes next. Even when the leaves die, they change color, and it can be absolutely beautiful.
Maybe that’s part of why Noah Kahan’s Stick Season resonates with so many people at this time of year. His version of fall isn’t just cozy sweaters and pumpkin patches. It’s about being stuck somewhere in between leaving and coming home, who you were and who you want to be, or even one chapter of your life and the next.
That’s something most of us can relate to. Friendships change, people move, relationships end, college eventually comes to an end (soon for me, unfortunately), and suddenly, you’re expected to figure out what’s next. Fall gives all of those changes a season of their own.
“Everyone falls in love in the fall”
Maybe it’s because fall makes everything feel a little more romantic, but we tend to romanticize romance in the fall, too.
Fall has been culturally coded as romantic for decades. There’s a reason many of our favorite rom-coms take place in fall; ordinary moments feel cinematic. Think When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail, and Notting Hill.
Getting coffee isn’t just coffee; it’s a fall coffee date, often with pumpkin spice lattes. Going on a walk isn’t just going on a walk; it’s a stroll through covered bridges, observing the leaves changing colors in your favorite fall sweater.
Social media amplifies this “main character” energy. Fall becomes this “falling in love” season. Why does being single suddenly feel different in October? I think that it’s because suddenly your TikTok feed is full of couples at pumpkin patches, fall date ideas, “things to do with your boyfriend this fall,” matching Halloween costumes, apple picking, and cozy movie nights.
For people in relationships, it’s movie date nights with a cinnamon scent in the air and matching sweaters. For single people, it’s the fantasy of meeting someone while buying a coffee, walking through a bookstore, or at a Halloween party. Even if you were perfectly content being single in July, fall gives you 53 new ways to imagine the relationship you’re not in.
Then there’s cuffing season, which takes the romanticization of fall and adds a sense of urgency. Suddenly, it feels like there’s a deadline to find someone before the weather gets cold, before Halloween, before the holidays, before you’re stuck watching everyone else’s couples’ posts.
Maybe we don’t actually love fall because of pumpkins, sweaters, and pumpkin spice lattes. We love having a season that gives us permission to pause, remember, change, and make ordinary life feel special.
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