In sorting out retirement, I started with, “What Can I Wear On The Sofa?” Was this the most important question? Nope. But it was the most immediate, and the most easily answered. I like to start small, when faced with big.
I can now report, as promised and with some finality, that $200 sweatpants are not part of the solution. For me. Witness.
Don’t get me wrong, these are great pants, if only for their soft fabric, beautiful color, and detail. Great pants for someone. But I’m 57 and my waist insists on its proverbial pound of flesh. While I don’t hate my midriff – it has brought me my children and housed a lot of great food after all – I don’t want to build it a cathedral. That flap was just too flying buttress.
I tried on other sweatpant versions, but thought I’d spare you the full experiment. By the way, it turns out that Sturdy Gals don’t like volume around their legs. Perhaps it’s all that snagging in the bushes they are whacking.
I arrived at the idea of sweatpants via logic. Solve for seated discomfort, go straight to elastic waistband. But there’s another way to solve problems, i.e. empirically. Just go about your life and watch what happens. Empirically, it turns out, I wear jeans. Loose jeans. Which means that boyfriend jeans are the real answer. Boyfriend jeans out and about, a lovely range of drawstring flannel PJ bottoms for the sofa.
Do you care that I wear flannel PJs in my house? I suspect not. But the story might be a familiar one in building a personal style. Start with an idea, prove it wrong, realize the real answer was staring you in the face – or some body part – all along.