vogue– As we continue to navigate these ever-changing times, in season two of What I Wore This Week, one Vogue editor shares their outfits—both on Zoom and IRL—from the previous week.
My mornings are a place of potential, where I can do my personal projects before work, squeeze in some exercise, or just write for mind-clearing pleasure. And yet, amid all that opportunity, I’ve spent years hitting snooze eight times in a row, hoping to wake up at 6:30 but instead rushing to work after finally getting dressed at 9. Growing up in Oregon, we used to set our alarms for 5:30 in order to feed the horses—there’s something easier about getting out of bed when you know a kind-eyed mare is waiting for her breakfast in the barn.
Now, in the absence of a horse friend and a commute to work, I’ve created other motivations for my morning, which in turn provide a reason to put on clothes. During the week, it’s mostly about journaling in the soft light that defines one corner of my apartment. If I’m ambitious, I’ll walk to my local bookshop-cafe for some olive oil cake and a dirty chai. On the weekends, I’m up early to get to the farmer’s market where I’ve been buying all my produce, and taking the subway to Rockaway to surf the fall waves. Here’s what I’ve been wearing, whether at-home or on a small a.m. excursion.
Coffee and Journal
Before the pandemic began, I took serious pleasure in buying coffee and drinking it on the way to work. But now that drinking coffee while walking is inadvisable, I’ve finally figured out an at-home routine—a relief for my wallet and a win for being less wasteful. Over the summer, I made cold brew with a Takeya pitcher that makes the process super easy. Now that it’s colder, I’ve been starting the day with a cup of Aeropress, facilitated by a Fellow kettle that heats water quickly, and keeps it simmering at the ideal temperature. This routine is almost always paired with my Lauren Manoogian pants, which I love because they’re cozy without feeling sloppy. They’re made of alpaca and merino wool, and the pockets are perfectly sized. (I bought them after my friend, the tea-maker Maria Geyman, told me she wore them 24/7 last winter.) I’m similarly obsessed with Kapital socks, and have slowly amassed a collection of their smiley face design over the years—I love how they look with a pair of Birkenstocks. For those who only care about the mushroom lamp in this photo (it throws light onto the ceiling which means a lot to me when the sun sets at 4), it is hand-painted in Germany and available at this Dutch children’s shop.
I’ve come up with something of a surf uniform because I want to make it easy to get out the door and into the waves. Especially over these past months, it’s been such a relief to spend time at the beach, where the constant breeze eases coronavirus anxiety and a lucky day results in a dolphin sighting. The Jesse Kamm overalls are the main nonnegotiable in this outfit—I bought them big so they’re a relief to put on after shimmying out of a wetsuit. I always bring my Cotopaxi backpack (each bag is made with leftover fabric from the company’s other gear, so they’re all one of a kind) and Noah hat to guard against the sun. Supergoop sunscreen is also key on that front: I use it as my base layer and then supplement it with Shiseido’s UV protector stick because I once read a pro surfer’s beauty secrets, and that’s what she recommended. I’m also wearing my Ampwata shirt, which I love because I know the designer, Jasmine Plantin, is all about finding peace in the ocean. To top it all off, my orange Denizeri swim bottoms make it feel like summer even when it’s not (I’ve mismatched them with a Solid & Striped top here).
Now that my outings are extremely limited, I appreciate the farmer’s market all the more. I feel like a kid, marveling at the produce as it changes with the seasons: Ooooh, romanesco! Every week we buy a giant leek and cut into it gradually, sautéing it before mixing into scrambled eggs in the morning. I’m also enamored with the cheese people who sell a “Womanchego” as opposed to its manly counterpart. My boyfriend and I will do a pre-market pastry run to Otway, which occupies a plant-filled corner of Fulton. On this fall day I wore a tunic by Story MFG. All their clothes are dyed with “leaves, bark, roots, heartwood, and fruit,” which makes for an earthy, calming palette. Otherwise I’m wearing Uniqlo heat-tech tights, Brother Vellies socks (officially dubbed the “It-sock” by our very own Vogue dot com), and a Collina Strada mask. The Barbour coat is an old one from my parents, and the bag is vintage LL Bean which I found at the Bushwick shop Raggedy Threads.
Stretch at Home
Recently, after hours sitting looking at a laptop, I bent down to put on my socks and felt a searing pain in my lower back. I spent multiple minutes hobbling around in tears, asking “What is it??” Turns out it was a muscle spasm, likely caused by my lack of movement. I immediately felt like I’d aged 20 years and embarked on an existential crisis. To keep future pains at bay, I’ve been making a point to stretch and do sit-ups. I wear my Come Back As a Flower shorts, which are handmade in L.A. (the brand also curates a great collection of vintage animal tees), along with a Patagonia base layer which I’ve raved about before.
Trip to the Book Shop
Once upon a time, in the days before social distancing, the Clinton Hill cafe Head Hi held a lamp exhibition where they lit up a cold December night with homemade creations sourced from their community. I was thinking about that event when I sent designer Cherry Kim a moodboard for my custom RHEE lamp pants. Kim sources vintage Dickies and Carhartts and then hand-draws on them. She’d previously adorned pants with chairs and vases, but I pulled an array of my favorite lamps as references for my pair. Worlds aligned when I wore the pants to Head Hi on a recent morning. Beyond serving great coffee, Head Hi is the book store where I’ve been ordering all my reading during the pandemic—most recently this science and nature writing anthology whose opening essay about animal consciousness will be forever on my mind.