A month or so ago we thought we’d hit the sartorial jackpot, having discovered endless tracksuit bottoms stuffed in the back of our wardrobes and *actually* being able to wear them to work. ‘To work’ meaning, of course, at our kitchen table.
But what feels like an inordinate number of weeks later, joggers, hoodies, tracksuits, leisurewear, ‘athleisure’ – whatever you want to call the comfies we’ve been lounging about in since mid-March – feel a bit, well, unappealing.
There’s something strangely uplifting about putting a real outfit together, never mind actually wearing it. Daydreaming about whether or not a certain shaped trouser leg would go with the puffed-sleeve of your new favourite top, or whether a dress would be appropriate for both the office and the bar. We even miss clothing store changing rooms, and we certainly never thought we’d say that.