I still cannot get over the fact that we go to the beach in December here. I mean, we’re hardly wandering around in swimsuits (that’s exclusively November territory), but it’s totally lay-down-on-a-blanket-and-nap-in-the-sun weather – and really, that’s all I ever want to do at the beach anyway.
When I was a kid and then a young adult, I spent my winters in New York and Boston, where December meant walking backwards into the wind because if you didn’t the cold would make your face burn. Granted, thanks to global warming (you know, that mythological creation of the Chinese) East Coast winters are practically balmy these days, but still: no beaching. And so when my NYC-based parents take the trip out west to celebrate the holidays with us, to the winter water we go.
Aside from the photo of my kids and their grandparents below (um please look closely at my daughter’s hands, which are firmly encircling her brother’s neck), the primary thing that I need you to attend to here is that pair of pants I’m wearing. Because they are not pants; they are pajamas (these pajamas, specifically).
Either I’ve put on a couple of holiday pounds that have made my jeans feel just a hair too uncomfortable or my tolerance level for anything even the tiniest bit tight-fitting has plummeted along with the temperature, but these pants are very literally all I want to wear lately. My mom bought me a pair for Christmas, and the very next day I stopped into the Gap for another, because I saw the direction this was going in, and I don’t want to freak out the parents at dropoff by wearing the same pajamas every day (just every other day).
They’re high-waisted, come in a million different patterns (including adorable Fair Isle versions), and are the perfect weight: heavy enough to be cozy, but still lightweight enough to be un-bulky-looking. Suggest you pick up a pair, take a quick review of this post on how to wear pajamas while not actually reclining in bed (I myself choose to ignore most of those tips completely, because I very much do not care if anyone knows that I’m wearing pajamas out to dinner or anywhere else), and get on your pajamas-in-public-wearing way.