Sunday, July 26, 2009
I had a friend back in the MA named S. She introduced me to many things, knitting, fried clams from The Bite in Martha's Vineyard, Le Creuset cookware and lounge pants. I made fun of her (to her face - I'm nice like that) penchant for donning lounge pants as soon as the sun went down before settling in for some Gilmore Girls or Veronica Mars, but little did I know she totally knew what was up. I've settled into this routine where, basically, I either wear work clothes, gym clothes or lounge pants. I'm not sure if that means I'm old (turing the big 2-8 shortly) or lazy or resigned to my life as a suburbanite or what. But fuck me if I don't love a good pair of lounge pants. I feel terrible for deriding S back in the day. She and I could've curated a kick ass collection of lounge pants. We could've sewn our own! Bought the expensive ones from Anthropologie! I didn't know! I was so young back then. Young and compelled to be properly dressed at all times. What I'm saying is, I've rounded a corner. Loungeapalooza baby.