This Easter vacation, I spent three glorious weeks traipsing down the east coast of Australia with my younger sister, stopping off at eight different locations, beginning in Cairns and ending in Sydney. It was fantastic: the trip of an entire lifetime. But it was also hot. Too hot, at times. Being pale and ginger is not conducive to coping with the sun, either, and the 34-degree heat and humidity also did not help things greatly. My sister and I spent many a day on the beach, but also many a morning wondering what to wear.

We were ill-equipped for the heat. Brits don’t tend to have a wardrobe full of lightweight clothing, bikinis, camisoles, and flip-flops – especially not those Brits, like our family, who tend to holiday exclusively on the home island. This led us to take note of what the Aussies wore, and try to emulate. Everyone wore flip-flops – even to work – and women seemed to get away with wandering into shops and restaurants wearing only a bikini on their top half, and skimpy shorts on the bottom half. Never in a million years, in the UK, would I dream of walking into a restaurant in flip-flops and a bikini, but in Australia it seems to be the norm.

Being in Australia gave us time to reflect on body image and body positivity as well. Because of the heat and the constant sunshine, everyone Down Under wore what they wanted, seemingly without body concerns or harboured self-embarrassment. I’m not saying that the Australians appeared to be free of body dysmorphic thoughts, but that there was an increased sense of body confidence and satisfaction, no matter the size or shape. I feel as if, in the UK, we’re constantly concerned about being ‘Beach Body ready’ come the summer months, or that we need to slim down for the wedding we’re attending in August. But when you live somewhere like Australia, it’s practically summer all year round (well, on British terms it is), so why bother harbouring anxieties over how you look? It was much more an ‘everyone’s beautiful’ atmosphere – it was inspiring, comforting, and eased any fears my sister and I had.

That’s not to say, though, that we didn’t stick out among the crowd. Not only am I a redhead, but I am a deathly shade of alabaster as a result, and it is genetically impossible for me to tan (even just a little bit). So I was one of those people who could be seen layering on the Factor 50 suncream at regular intervals throughout the day, and who went home the same shade of sheet white that she went. My sister is also very pale, but is instead blonde. Yet, unlike myself, she has legs up to her eyebrows, which, when wearing shorts or a swimming costume, are two long pins of porcelain white, in deep contrast to the golden Australians around us.

But we enjoyed it, and had a lot of laughs. As summer comes to Cambridge, I’d implore everyone to wear what they want, without anxiety over how they look, what size they are, or whether or not their tan is just right. Life is too short to worry about clothing that much. As summer descends, embrace the playsuit, welcome the strappy tops, and covet the sandals. Just go for it – summer is never here for that long.