as the days start to blur, I need good clothes to help me go the social distance.
text + styling + model: kate snyder
at the beginning of this whole thing, I was irretrievably in flux.
constantly in limbo, but without the fun music. every day felt like one long sunday afternoon, steeped in a sort of cognitive dissonance between the desire for productivity and the markings of leisure time — I was eating pancake breakfasts and wearing pajamas past ten while still receiving emails marked “ACTION REQUIRED.”
it donned on me, about a week into my extended-spring-break-turned-armageddon, that I couldn’t keep treating life like a snow day.
the novelty of wearing pajama pants during my zoom meetings wore off around the same time I finished tiger king. as the screen faded to black on joe exotic’s precariously-placed eyebrow piercing, my mood shifted. I needed a winona ryder-level comeback, fast.
as I always do, I looked to clothes for salvation. I proverbially burned the over-worn sweatpants and opted for a new, rigorous routine of outfit changes. now, I swap my clothes like I’m starring in a one woman show, coming up with novel excuses to wear new costumes by hour, just to mark the passage of time. like a sort of sartorial muscle confusion — I’m dressing for sport, donning ensembles in short bursts, imagining a jacked trainer yelling in my ear, “PUT ON A CLEAN SHIRT! YOU CAN DO THIS! PUSH!”
these are the outfits that are making me excited to get up in the morning — the clothes that are keeping me socially is-ELATED.
shop all looks below.
8:00 AM: horizontal pajamas
these, the pajamas that I soaked in overnight, have a fast-approaching expiration date. by the time I finish the crossword they IMMEDIATELY go stale and if I don’t change FAST I run the risk of slithering from breakfast nook to couch. if I go to couch, there is simply no telling when I may hope to emerge. did you know cheers is on netflx? it’s a miracle I get anything done. oh, ted danson.
9:30 AM: vertical pajamas
I have to change out of my horizontal pajamas, but I also have to be gentle with myself. this means wearing clothes that *look* real, but feel like a warm blanket. think tuxedo t-shirt, but with less cynicism.
11:00 AM: ms. frizzle goes for a walk
I have a neighbor who writes nonfiction history books and he walks to help him think. he is always thinking and thus is always walking and thus I see him EVERY time I step outside my house. when I go for my morning strolls, I wear something absolutely deranged because I like to think that I might wedge my way into his subconscious and find myself mentioned subliminally in his next great work. so, if you read a biography of mary todd lincoln that describes her absolutely incessant insistence on power clashing, you’ll know.
12:30 PM: important meeting over lunch at a table for one, please
“I’ll have the tuna niçoise” I say to my open fridge. I usually hate lunch, but I will take any opportunity for a capital-E Event. I need an outfit that will see me through my afternoon zoom calls and/or give me the strength to listen to my mother rant about how “drinking hot water kills the virus” (it doesn’t).
3:00 PM: vertical pajamas part deux
lunch was exhausting. I wore a blazer for crying out loud. it’s time to digest in another outfit that makes me feel like I’ve been swaddled but that would STILL not be embarrassing should my fire alarm go off and force me to confront a hoard of fireman who would turn their noses at me if they saw me in my horizontal pajamas at such an hour.
5:00 PM: diane keaton fantasy hour
it’s still too cold to sit on my back porch with a white wine spritzer but let me ask you something: do I look like a quitter? don’t answer that, mom.
I’ll be damned if I don’t absolutely maximize all opportunities for luxury, and until we’re allowed to get pedicures again, cocktail hour al fresco is I have. this endeavor does, however, necessitate copious layers. as I do in all things, I look to diane keaton for inspiration.