It's 2003, and my cousin Cole and I are watching some kind of early advent of reality TV.
Probably America's Next Top Model or The Simple Life.
One of the most fascinating aspects of reality TV at that time was seeing people in private. (Or some semblance of it...)
And so much of that was communicated in seeing the subjects and stars at home in loungewear.
The ANTM girls gathered in their model apartment in hoodies, pajama bottoms, and Juicy Couture sweatsuits. Messy ponytails, thin rimmed metal frames that have since come back around. Basically behind the scenes at a sorority house.
Paris and Nicole, when they weren't at whatever blue-collar job they were working that episode, were usually lounging around in bed.
A carefully manicured aesthetic. Full face. Tracksuit. Hair askew.
The ultimate ladies who lounged.
Cole would turn to me and say, “If you were on a show like this, you’d never look like that.”
And she didn’t mean I’d never look like the models on ANTM or like Paris Hilton - she meant that I’d never be caught dead in sweatpants or pajamas on television.
And she was right.
We were teenagers watching TV in my living room, and I was in a complete outfit. No cameras in sight - but what if the mailman came by?
It was that way for years. I would wake up, get dressed for the day, and stay that way (maybe with a few outfit changes in between) until it was time to put on my pajamas for bed.
Middle school, high school, even college. Rarely an exception. I was always dressed.
And then I moved to LA.
The Olsen Twins may now be known for their looks running around NY. But their LA street style was formative for me.
LA’s style is varied.
A plate of personal style so subtle, so diverse, it’s often discussed, but rarely truly examined.
So this is just a small part, a subset of a plethora of personal style in LA - but I like to call this subset "Coffee Run".
It’s the outfit you wear to grab a coffee and maybe get snapped by a paparazzi. Somehow both glam and laidback. Relaxed but image-conscious. A mix of ease with a touch of bad taste.
It's leaving a yoga class and immediately lighting up a cigarette.
In LA, I began to see loungewear differently.
Somehow, loungewear in Los Angeles was glam.
The "Coffee Run" look was the granddaughter to Liz Taylor's kaftans for floating around her Bel Air house. Lounging but wearing more jewels than we'll ever even hold.
Liz Taylor at home in Bel Air. // Architectural Digest
Celebrities on a Starbucks run wearing sweatpants and a big ol’ Chanel bag. The Olsen twins in layers of jersey knit and crocodile totes. at the airport.
"Somehow, always being fully dressed now seemed not only unnecessary but also uncool."
Birkenstocks, sweatshirts, leggings. They were suddenly all on the table. (To say I didn’t wear leggings before moving to LA would be a lie. I am a millennial after all.)
The Olsen twins and a coffee cup. A classic style combo.
There was special freedom in wearing a look that was comfortable and chic, that bridged the gap between public and private spaces.
Somehow, always being fully dressed now seemed not only unnecessary but also uncool.
This was 2013ish.
Around the time of peak Wildfox. Oversized soft sheer t-shirts. Loose and distressed sweaters emblazoned with graphic star prints.
The kind of dressed-down pop princess aesthetic that seemed like the younger, edgier cousin of Juicy Couture’s early aughts wave. (Kimberly Gordon, founder of Wildfox, went on to found Selkie, another iconic brand.)
Head to toe jersey in my Hollywood studio circa 2014.
But although I chased this impossibly chill vibe, I was left looking, at best, boring and, at worst, sloppy.
This is the time to call out something I have since come to realize is a larger issue across plus-size fashion girls - with plus size creators and models calling out a similar feeling...
As a bigger person, we are constantly in fear of looking unkempt, sloppy, and slobbish. We tell ourselves that when a size 2 wears sweats, it gives model off-duty vibes. When a size 20 wears sweats, it just a woman who’s given up.
Do you ever look back at photos of yourself and think - damn, why did I donate those Balenciaga platforms to Out of the Closet in a manic pre-move clean? No? Just me?
But never one to give up on a fashion challenge - I spent the next 10 years trying to find the balance between my pulled-together fashion girl self, with a dash of the LA coffee run queens.
The mid-2010s gave me drappy jersey knits and oversized jumpsuits that felt very Rachel Comey.
The late 2010s gave me a parade of Fiorucci sweatshirts that I still wear today. (So much so I named my cat Fiorucci...)
Sweatpants and I may be strangers - but sweatshirts and I have a long history...
But I never really bought sweatpants. They felt bulky, awkward, and lame on my curvy bottom half.
And then we get to 2020.
Sweats were loungewear, workwear, and general all-day, “Please let me out of this 750sq ft apartment before I scream” wear.
I found one set. A leopard LNA knit hoodie and matching pants. I wore it constantly, but I didn’t feel great about it. The rise in the pants, unflattering, and the hood was constantly choking me.
And as we rejoined the public world, loungewear felt like the last thing I wanted to debut in.
But here in 2025, I'm feeling cozy again.
Maybe it's my brain trying to engage with the Y2K trends without having lie to myself about low rise pants. (Never again.)
Either way I felt the siren song of a mid-aughts celebrity on their way to Coffee Bean…
And I went hunting for sweats.
Rihanna my patron saint for a luxe lounge-y vibe.
I was inspired by Rihanna and her ever-constant combo of sweats and a fur coat. The juxtaposition seemed just right for the glam, hermit vibe I was feeling.
Plus, I already had the Simone Rocha Crocs…
What's next? Moon boots?
So I went online in search… Unsure if I was even going to wear these, I opted for a cheap pair of “VintageSoft” sweats from the Gap. A navy pair with a classic jogger bottom.
They came, and suddenly it all fell into place. The soft touch, the slouchy cut. I would be at home on the ANTM couch or shielding my face from the TMZ cameras.
My first sweatsuit success.
I soon understood the appeal.
I could work at my computer, check the mail, run into a neighbor - and yes, go and get a coffee - all while still feeling like I hadn't been caught as some kind of creature scurrying out from its hovel.
(The always charming @pigmami seemed to be feeling the same - she just shared her favorite Suzie Kondi set on TikTok - linked below!)
I ordered another.
This time, an oversized, wide-leg pair in baby blue with a matching boxy sweatshirt. This set felt downright chic.
I paired it with a vintage slouchy Marc Jacobs bag and oversized Prada baroque sunnies. All that was missing was a venti Starbucks and a black SUV.
Sweatsuit with just a touch of Crocs poking out...
Stacked with jewelry. Simone Rocha Crocs. And a fur coat when it’s finally cool enough.
My search was finally over.
I was a lady who lounged.
