Brytani Raymond, Copy Editor 

Long ago, pumpkin spice season used to arrive gently, like a crisp breeze on a September afternoon. A latte here, a candle there, and maybe a pie or two. It was something you could savor slowly, a gentle nudge that the year was turning. Now it leaps out like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. 

Walk into any store and pumpkin spice is EVERYWHERE. Your senses are bombarded, ambushed even, with the smells of freshly brewed fall. It begins with our coffee, but it quickly unfurls its autumnal tendrils into every aspect of our lives. Cheerios, potato chips, cough drops, hummus, dog treats, protein powder, hand soap, and—I kid you not—pumpkin spice Spam. PSL is not just a flavor; it’s an invasive species akin to Kudzu in Georgia. 

The irony is, most pumpkin spice products don’t even contain pumpkin. As a matter of fact, the iconic Starbucks PSL—the drink that started the craze back in 2004—didn’t include any real pumpkin until 2015.Generally speaking, “Pumpkin Spice” is really just nutmeg, cinnamon, and clove dressed up in a comfy, orange sweater. This phenomenon highlights how culture overrides actual content: the flavor itself is less important than the associations it carries—warmth, harvest, comfort, and nostalgia. Who doesn’t enjoy a warm hug in a cup? Especially if you’re the type of person who avoids actual hugs. 

Corporations know the season is short, so they’ve managed to weaponize what I like to call PSL-FOMO (pumpkin spice latte fear of missing out). This is not merely marketing; it’s a full-scale emotional siege on the autumn enthusiast. The thing about PSL FOMO is it’s not limited to lattes–pumpkin spice tortilla chips? Better buy five bags. Pumpkin spice Oreos? This could be your last chance. Pumpkin spice beer? Sure, I didn’t plan to drink my dessert, but life is short and autumn is shorter. So short, in fact, that Starbucks released its fall menu this year on August 26th. That’s a full 27 days before the first day of autumn on September 22nd. Nothing says “Hello Fall” quite like 80° heat and 100% humidity, am I right? In this way, pumpkin spice is a cultural ritual disguised as dessert, a seasonal performance that blends commerce, memory, and emotion into one cinnamon-scented package. 

But perhaps the strangest part is how pumpkin spice has morphed from a flavor into a lifestyle. Drinking a pumpkin spice latte is more than simply consuming high-fructose caffeine—it’s broadcasting that you are ready for fall. You have a leaf-print throw blanket. You’re planning your outfit for the pumpkin patch. Your Instagram caption will probably include the phrase “sweater weather.” Blood type: PSL. We assign meaning to it, follow its calendar, and participate in its traditions, even if we know it’s mostly sugar, spice, and clever marketing. 

Still, I have no room to speak ill of Pumpkin Spicinitis™. Every year, like clockwork, I too find myself in line for that first pumpkin spice latte. Do I need it? No. Do I want it? More than anything. My body knows it’s being pulled into the ritual from every direction, and for a few delicious minutes after that first whiff, resistance feels not just futile, but unnecessary. Pumpkin spice may be ephemeral, but the feelings it conjures linger long after the cup is empty.  

Pumpkin spice may not be confined to mugs anymore (it may not even be flavor anymore), but it has become a kind of tradition. And traditions, like crunchy leaves, can be difficult to escape. 

So, this fall, let’s embrace the PSL for what it is: a marker of fall’s unofficial opening ceremony. Let’s raise our pumpkin spice lattes and toast to the season. Just… maybe not the Spam.