How I Make My Summer Playlist (Even Though It’s a Mess Every Year)
As soon as our flight seats are booked and I know summer vacation is officially one week away, I get the feeling.
You know the one. The shift. The internal nudge that says,
"It’s time."
Time for the sunscreen, the last-minute shopping runs, the outfit planning I swore I wouldn’t obsess over.
But more than anything, time to do the one thing I dread every single year:
Make. The. Summer. Playlist.
And I mean dread.
It sounds like a fun task, light, simple, aesthetic even. But for me, it’s an identity crisis wrapped in Spotify links.
Because how am I supposed to compress my entire personality, mood, and emotional volatility into one cohesive collection of songs?
Spoiler: I can't.
And I definitely don’t try.
🎧 A Musical Identity Crisis (Disguised As a Playlist)
Every year I tell myself: This is the year I’ll make it simple. Just 20 songs. Chill vibes. Perfect flow.
But then suddenly I’m knee-deep in a spiral, questioning if I’m more synthpop or acoustic heartbreak this year.
Because here’s the problem:
My music taste changes every three seconds.
I’ll go from dreamy French pop to painfully depressing acoustic ballads to chaotic reggaeton in one afternoon.
So yes, it is 100% possible I’ll be lying on a beach in Spain, sun on my skin, quietly crying to some sad indie track about lost love and missed chances.
And yes, that’s fine. That’s the plan, actually.
There are no rules in this process.
Or, actually, there are rules, but I break all of them.
“Less is more.” Yeah… No.
People love to give advice about playlists.
“Keep it under 30 songs.”
“Make sure it flows.”
“Only pick tracks that feel summery.”
To all of that I say: absolutely not.
If I like a single song from an artist, I add the entire album.
Actually, scratch that, I add their entire discography.
I don’t want to miss a single track that might hit differently at 2AM on a random Tuesday in July when I’m spiraling over something minor but dramatic.
My playlist isn’t sleek. It’s not curated.
It’s bloated. Inconsistent. Sometimes just straight-up unhinged.
But it’s mine.
And it includes every single sound that feels even slightly like “me” right now, no matter how weird the combination.
It’s like emotional hoarding. Organized chaos. Except mostly chaos.
It's Not Even About Summer
Here’s the truth: my “summer playlist” is barely about summer at all.
Yes, I might throw in a few classics, the breezy songs, the ones that sound like open windows and golden hour.
But most of the playlist is made up of tracks I’ve been playing on repeat since September.
Songs that held me together during 3PM slumps and late-night walks.
Songs that sound like heartbreak, or joy, or boredom.
Songs that got me through all the weird in-between months when I didn’t even know what I was feeling.
Some of them are the complete opposite of “summer.”
So moody, so intense, they feel almost illegal to play under a blue sky.
But they belong. Because they’re part of the version of me that’s walking into summer right now.
A Musical Time Capsule
And that’s kind of what it is:
A snapshot.
Not of summer. But of me, right before summer begins.
What I’ve been thinking about. What I’ve been feeling. What I’ve survived.
It’s less about setting a vibe and more about capturing a version of myself I might forget otherwise.
The funny thing? Despite the randomness, the playlist always ends up working.
I’ll be sitting on a terrace somewhere, sunburnt and slightly delirious, eating something I can’t pronounce,
and then,
A song comes on.
One I impulsively added in February.
And it lands perfectly. Like the soundtrack knew where I’d be all along.
Ending the Playlist (Sort Of)
By the end of August, I stop adding to the playlist.
Not because I’m done, but because I know the version of me I made it for is about to shift again.
I’ll give it a name like “summer 2025 (??)”, always lowercase, always confused,
and I archive it.
Because even if no one else would want to listen to it (and honestly, they shouldn’t),
for me, it’s a time capsule.
A perfectly messy, emotionally unstable, beautiful mess of a memory.
Months later, even years, I’ll come back to it and remember exactly who I was.
Not just what I listened to, but what I felt.
And that makes the chaos worth it.
The Cycle Continues
Next summer, I’ll complain again.
I’ll open Spotify and scroll aimlessly. I’ll consider deleting everything and moving to the mountains.
I’ll roll my eyes at myself.
And then, I’ll do it again.
Because that’s how it works.
It’ll be a mess.
I’ll hate 80% of it.
And somehow, it’ll be perfect.
How to Make Your Summer Playlist:
Forget the rules.
Don’t overthink it.
Add the random sad song.
Add the hyper-pop track you pretend not to like.
Add the dramatic instrumental that makes you feel like the main character.
Add everything.
That’s the only way it’ll actually sound like your summer.
Not a playlist for the season, but a playlist for the version of you that walks through it.