hit refresh withHarling RossHow the writer is starting fresh and staying comfy from her colorful corner of NYC.
5 ways she’s hitting refresh in the new year 1. “Making my bed every morning.”2. “Foam rolling!!!”3. “Writing or reading for pleasure every day, even if it’s just a few sentences.”4. “Giving my sock and underwear drawers some much-needed upgrades.”5. “Giving back! I set up recurring donations at some charities I admire, and my plan is to increase the percentage of my income I’m donating every year.”
60 seconds with harling
more musings...An Homage to Comfortable ClothesAnd how I learned to savor the sweat suitby Harling RossAs a kid, my dogged pursuit of sartorial comfort knew no bounds. I hated the itchy feeling of tights so much that whenever my mom made me wear them to church, I would raise my hand during Sunday school and ask to go to the bathroom for the sole purpose of removing them. The sensation as I peeled them off—pure, unadulterated bliss—was on par with the most euphoric of sugar highs. I shared a similar aversion toward buttons and zippers, which meant I refused to wear anything except leggings as pants for a good portion of my childhood. I also called the shorts I was required to change into for gym in elementary school “athletic corsets” because of their ultra-tight waistbands, and started stretching them out every night between two bedposts while I brushed my teeth.Then came adolescence, and with it, a deeper self-consciousness about my personal style. I traded in my leggings for skinny jeans, my cushy slip-on shoes for pinched-toe flats, and occasionally even my socks for tights. At the same time, I began harboring an interest in fashion, and exploring the various ways I could use clothing to communicate things about myself. I may have felt shy and awkward on the inside, but on the outside my clothes told other stories. Comfort was less prioritized in favor of trends, statements and silhouettes.The fact that this exchange was even possible thrilled me, and the negotiation between comfort and what I perceived to be “style” continued on into my adulthood. I operated under the illusion that one always had to be sacrificed in order to champion the other. It was only this past year, when indoor confinement meant I was no longer using outfits as a language to communicate with other people, that I revisited my deep-seated penchant for comfortable clothes—and in the process, my perspective on the interplay between comfort and style started to evolve.It became clear that when I truly dress for myself, and no one else, I still champion comfort above everything. I care less about how I look and more about how I feel. I gravitate toward soft fabrics, looser silhouettes, thick socks and sneakers with good arch support. I savor good sweat suits like fine wines. I realized I’m not particularly motivated to dabble in the language of cool-yet-uncomfortable clothing if there’s no one around to appreciate whatever the aesthetic upside happens to be. I also discovered new ways in which cool and comfortable can coexist. That’s not to say I don’t miss discomfort sometimes—high heels and clanky jewelry and party dresses with scratchy linings—but I think what I really miss is having a reason to justify it in the first place. Reasons will come again, but until they do, I’m inclined to keep examining my relationship with style as a whole. And I’ll do that while wearing head-to-toe fleece.
Make yourself (even more) comfy...
