I have a pair of faded jeans. They are basically two washes away from not existing. I always look in the washer and think I’m just going to see some blue fuzz where the pants used to be
But they are my “home” pants. They are so worn that the elastic waist barely holds them up. Every ten steps or so, I have to pull them up again. They match perfectly with the rotating line of Kivgiq sweatshirts I wear with them. The sweatshirts are all from the 1990s. They are as worn as the pants. Ergo – they match.
I don’t know what you wear when you’re home. Maybe it’s something you have trouble admitting to yourself. But we all have this outfit in one form or another – the pants that have no pinchy parts, the shirts that just fall over your body, no bra needed, as you wander through the house doing chores.
My only regret is that I do not have the courage to bring these clothes with me when I travel. My family needs little prodding to have those commitment papers brought out again.