Second Glances with Arabella

by Arabella Windsor

There is something wonderfully peculiar about summer in Second Life. Our avatars do not sweat. The air conditioning never breaks. Mosquitoes are entirely optional, sunburn requires a deliberate trip into the appearance editor, and no one has ever had to abandon a perfectly good afternoon because the heat index reached 105 degrees. Yet, somehow, when summer arrives in the physical world, it arrives in Second Life too, and perhaps nowhere is summer quite as enthusiastically embraced.

In the interest of full disclosure, I am decidedly more of an autumn-and-winter person in real life than I am a devotee of spring and summer. Coming from the Deep South, spring arrives with what we affectionately—and accurately—call “the Pollening,” when seemingly every tree in creation conspires to bury the world beneath a fine yellow dust. It is our own seasonal Dust Bowl, only with pine pollen instead of Oklahoma topsoil, and enough Grapes of Wrath atmosphere to make Steinbeck reach for a Claritin.

Then comes summer, bringing heat, yes, but more importantly the sort of suffocating humidity that makes simply stepping outdoors feel like walking into a warm, wet towel. By the time autumn sends even the faintest suggestion of cooler air our way, it alters our entire personality. Windows open. Porches become habitable again. People smile at strangers. There is, briefly, hope. Second Life, however, has neither pollen nor humidity, and it is here that we can embrace all the genuine pleasures of summer without having to endure any of the things that make the real one quite so exhausting.

By June, the transformation is already well underway. Snowy landscapes are months gone from memory, gardens are overflowing, beaches are suddenly populated again, and closets across the grid undergo their annual migration from sweaters and boots to sundresses, shorts, sandals and swimwear. Boats emerge from inventory. Pools that spent six months serving primarily as decorative landscaping suddenly have a purpose. Beach houses open their doors, outdoor clubs come alive, and somewhere, inevitably, someone is attempting to steer a sailboat while simultaneously changing clothes and ticking a box on a Tiny Empires hud. 

It is summer in Second Life.

A Season We Choose

One of the curious things about seasons in a virtual world is that none of them actually have to happen. There is no axial tilt governing the grid. Linden Lab does not wake up one morning and announce that the temperature in Bellisseria has reached 92 degrees. Region owners can maintain perpetual autumn, endless winter or eternal spring if they choose, yet most of us follow the seasons anyway.

That says something about the way we inhabit Second Life. Seasons are more than weather. They are part of the rhythm by which we measure time and bringing them into our virtual lives gives the world a sense of definition, movement and continuity.

Summer has its own visual language. It is bright green grass and hydrangeas. Adirondack chairs and striped umbrellas. Weathered docks stretching into impossibly blue water. Lemonade pitchers on garden tables. Fireflies at dusk. Picnic blankets, bicycles, porch swings, outdoor kitchens and swimming pools. 

Ahh the swimming pools. Entire articles have been devoted to these necessary home appendages, from backyard blow up tubs to full-blown tiled excess, complete with a high dive. Some you can even dance on! None of these things are necessary, which is precisely why they matter. Second Life has always been a world built largely from things we do not need but very much want to have. Summer gives us another excuse for creators to make them and for us to buy them. 

The Great Outdoor Migration

During winter, Second Life can feel wonderfully enclosed. We gather around fireplaces, decorate elaborate interiors and build cozy places protected from virtual weather that cannot actually hurt us. Summer reverses that instinct.

The walls seem to disappear. Suddenly the best room in the house is the patio. Residents who spent January obsessing over precisely arranged bookshelves are now debating whether the pool needs a cabana. Gardens become more elaborate. Outdoor furniture appears. Decks are extended. Boats are rezzed. Entire parcels are redesigned around the idea that everyone ought to be outside, and for those with a spare account or a desire to move, Linden houseboats and waterside Linden stilt homes become a bit scarcer during the summer season.

Speaking of Bellisseria, it’s especially noticeable across these residential communities, where the landscape itself encourages exploration. Roads, waterways, coastlines and community spaces become part of the summer experience. A bicycle, horse, motorcycle, boat or absurdly oversized convertible can turn an ordinary evening into an expedition, and because this is Second Life, expeditions rarely go according to plan.

A leisurely bicycle ride becomes an accidental region crossing catastrophe. A road trip ends with the car embedded in someone’s landscaping. A peaceful afternoon balloon flight concludes with three avatars, a wicker basket and several pieces of furniture stranded somewhere they absolutely did not intend to visit. These are not failures. These are summer memories.

Fashion Gets Lighter

Summer also brings one of the grid’s great seasonal rituals: the wardrobe change.

Second Life fashion has always responded enthusiastically to the calendar, and summer collections tend to arrive with an explosion of color, skin and optimism. 

For me, the sundresses return. For others, linen appears. Denim gets shorter. Sandals replace boots. Beachwear multiplies at a rate that suggests every avatar owns a private Caribbean island. Hair gets lighter and looser. Sunglasses become practically mandatory. Wide-brimmed hats appear despite the fact that virtual ultraviolet radiation remains remarkably manageable and most of my hair doesn’t even work with hats.

DJ sets suddenly feature beaches and swimming pool themes, affording one the opportunity to wear scandalously skimpy bathing suits without judgement. Summer opens the closet door to just about anything you can attach, including beach balls, ducky swim rings and a margarita the size of Texas.

Even residents who maintain carefully established personal styles tend to loosen things up during summer. There is something about the season that invites experimentation, such as a brighter color, a shorter skirt, or a ridiculous pair of sunglasses purchased entirely because they made you laugh. Summer fashion in Second Life is not really about dressing for the weather. It is about dressing for the idea of summer. That distinction is important.

The Grid Becomes a Vacation

Then there are the destinations. Summer is when Second Life’s extraordinary ability to function as a miniature travel machine becomes particularly apparent. 

Within minutes, you can move from a Mediterranean harbor to a New England fishing village, from a tropical resort to a Scottish island, from a California boardwalk to a hidden swimming hole surrounded by forest.

Destination creators understand the appeal of summer particularly well. They build places designed around lingering rather than accomplishing anything. My friends, the Odinsons, often post luxurious resort photographs from destination vacations taken within the virtual world, including languid sunsets, ocean views, fine dining and outdoor physical activities. Summer destination locations in Second Life has become a booming business, limited only to the imagination of the creators and landscapers who create these fabulous locations.

You can sit beside virtual water and listen to the waves. Wander through a garden. Explore a seaside town. Take photographs at sunset. Climb a rock wall. Find an outdoor café and spend an hour talking with someone. In a world filled with shopping events, notifications, group messages and landmarks demanding our attention, the lack of something to do is a luxury in and of itself. Summer gives us permission to do it.

Music Moves Outside

The social grid changes with the season as well. Outdoor concerts, beach parties, festivals, fairs and community events flourish. Clubs open terraces and waterfront venues. DJs move from dark interiors to stages surrounded by palm trees, festival lights or castle lawns. The music changes too.

Summer playlists have their own peculiar chemistry. Classic rock sounds better near water. Motown belongs at a cookout. Yacht rock practically requires a boat, even if the boat is made of mesh and currently lodged sideways against a region boundary.

There are festivals and celebrations scattered across the grid, along with the familiar summer traditions of communities that have been gathering together for years. That continuity matters because Second Life is old enough now to have traditions that endure.

Places have histories. Communities have anniversaries. People remember parties from ten or fifteen summers ago. They remember regions that no longer exist and friends who once stood beside them. Summer inevitably carries a little nostalgia with it.

Photography Season

Summer is also irresistible to photographers because over the 23 years of its existence, Second Life has become astonishingly beautiful.

Modern environments, sophisticated lighting, detailed landscaping and increasingly expressive avatars have transformed virtual photography. Summer gives photographers an enormous palette: golden-hour beaches, hazy afternoons, colorful gardens, dramatic thunderstorms and sunsets reflected across virtual oceans.

Even residents who don’t consider themselves photographers often find themselves taking more pictures, perhaps because summer naturally encourages us to preserve moments.

We do the same thing outside Second Life. We photograph vacations, sunsets, family gatherings and places we visit because some part of us understands that summer is temporary. Virtual summer is temporary too.

Eventually (soon) the pumpkins will appear. Someone will notice the first orange tree at a landscaping store. Halloween merchandise will begin creeping into weekend sales. Sweaters will emerge from inventory. Region owners will start eyeing autumn textures.

And just like that, summer will begin packing its bags.

The Long Virtual Evening

Maybe that is what makes summer in Second Life special, because it is not the weather itself, but the collective decision to pretend that the weather matters.

Thousands of people scattered across different countries, climates and time zones somehow agree that it is time to put flowers in the window boxes, launch the boat, open the pool and meet somewhere outside. We manufacture a season together.

And in doing so, we recreate some of the things we love most about summer in the physical world: spontaneity, exploration, long conversations, music drifting through the evening, travel, friendship and the feeling that there is still plenty of daylight left.

Second Life has always been particularly good at allowing us to construct places we wish existed. Summer extends that idea to time itself. Here, the afternoon can last as long as we want it to. The sunset can be moved backward with a slider. The beach never has to close and when night finally arrives, there is probably a party somewhere.

All you need is the landmark.

~ Arabella

Post Notes:

Java Sprockets (A bicycle and coffee shop): https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Puffin%20Head/46/21/23

Arabella’s Fine Pier: https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/The%20Hebrides/31/210/26

Oukranos Island Beach: https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Oukranos/136/138/21

BelliHub Beach Park: https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/BelliHub/86/85/24

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