The Loungewear Edit
Featuring Suzie Kondi, Lauren Manoogian, and Vintage Polo Sport
After a Memorial Day weekend for the books (and yes, I’ll say it again: go to Leiper’s Fork), I’m back on the East Coast, parked at my desk just in time for the rain to erase the golden tan I worked so hard to acquire by doing absolutely nothing.
Leiper’s Fork, for the unacquainted, is about 45 minutes outside Nashville—a place where celebrities go to cosplay as regular people. Think rolling hills, sprawling horse farms, and estates so tucked away they each require their own map. It’s a small town with the right amount of country charm, live music, and vintage shopping, enough to fill a morning if you stretch it out with a slow browse, a slower latte, and a long internal debate about whether you’re a cowboy boot person now.
I spent the long weekend lounging, coffee in hand, face tilted toward the sun, wearing what I like to call my “formal sweatpants.” Somewhere between my second nap of the day and an aggressively large bowl of watermelon, I had a revelation:
I am deeply committed to soft pants.
Linen, fleece, French terry—I don’t discriminate. If it doesn’t have a drawstring, I’m not interested. Loungewear has quietly become my unofficial uniform. It’s not that I’ve given up on real clothes, it’s just that soft clothes ask less of you.
No hard waistbands. No stiff collars. No performance required.
Since working remotely, I’ve had to teach myself how to spark some joy—in both my to-do list and my wardrobe. Not in the romantic, wine-at-lunch sense, more in the fleece-at-lunch kind of way, but let’s make it Miu Miu (Bergdorf’s has a Small!).
Some days, I stretch the pajama-to-getting-dressed window so far that by 2 PM I’m swapping one soft top for another, mostly to avoid my bed (and my husband) silently judging me for showing up in the same outfit twice. You’re welcome.
But let’s be clear: embracing the cozy lifestyle doesn’t mean going full Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer (no offense, Adam). There’s still room for a little polish. A soft pant can have presence. A sweatshirt can be, dare I say, elevated—especially when paired with good jewelry or something vaguely second-hand (think Hailey Bieber vibes) that makes people actually think you tried.
So, consider this my Loungewear Edit, a selection of the softest, easiest pieces that make staying in feel like a conscious decision, not a total fashion surrender.
If post-pandemic life has taught us anything, it’s that working from home requires a new kind of professionalism—the kind that hinges on showing up for yourself. Even if “showing up” means putting on a bra you resent and a knit set that says I’m in control.
And it’s not just a vibe—it’s backed by science. Studies from Harvard Business Review and the American Psychological Association show that what you wear (even if your only coworker is your dog, who naps through meetings and has yet to reply to an email) can actually boost your focus, motivation, and overall well-being.
Apparently, putting on pants just makes you feel more “on.”
The truth is, a well-cut gauzey linen set can do the job just as well, minus the loss of circulation below the ribcage. Because when your couch is all things (your office, your break room, and your existential crisis corner), the real flex isn’t a blazer. It’s an outfit that says I’m comfortable, but also, I could still fire off a savage email if needed.
And when you feel like you need to call in loungewear reinforcements, the answer will always be vintage.
Nothing adds quiet cool to loungewear like an old tee that looks like it lived through an MTV Spring Break and still has stories to tell. There’s something about finding that perfectly worn-in Polo Sport zip-up or a 90s souvenir sweatshirt that says:
Yes, I care—but only in a very specific, subcultural way.
It’s the fastest way to make an old Patagonia fleece look styled instead of sad. Throw it over soft pants and suddenly it’s an outfit. Bonus points if it references a niche pop culture moment no one else clocked, like a bootleg tour tee from the Janet era or something that feels like it was stolen from your older cousin in the early 90s.
A vintage piece can make even the laziest outfit look considered.
And in this economy? That’s style ROI, baby.
I’d love to hear—what keeps you inspired at home? And what’s your go-to outfit for lounging and hustling? No brakes, all Rick Ross.
x
Treasures of the Getty archive <3
It's the Jil Sander Spring 2005 for me