Sunday, that special day of the week that one is encouraged to do nothing. Relax, recuperate from the week before and recharge for the week ahead. Regardless of religious orientation, most heed the sentiment, 'he rested on the seventh day' as something to live by. Myself included.
It is a day of lie-ins, snoozing alarms, brunch, coffee dates, leisurely strolls - slow moving, easy living. I like Sundays. To-do lists are a thing reserved for another day. Leaving the house is optional. Brushing hair, getting dressed, socialising; all a choice. Emails, a form of communication strictly relegated between the hours of 7am Monday and 4pm Friday. Reading materials are recreational, those good books that people 'get lost in', magazines to be flicked through, maybe even a newspaper if you have the arm span. And not to forget Netflix, whose binge-ability is fully realised when one has a long outstretched day of no obligations. After all no plans and no commercial breaks is the true meaning of Netflix and chill.
And yet, in spite of this day being one of stringent rest, it is the only day of the week that I have clothing specifically reserved for. Though I have 'work' clothes for the 9 to 5 of the midweek and clothing to transition between stepping through the door and going to bed (more acceptable than pyjamas at 6pm). Sunday's are different. These outfits are curated for Sundays. For doing nothing and for doing a little bit of something, for doing leisurely activities and for just being leisurely.
Sunday outfits are comfortable, relaxed silhouettes that translate the insouciance synonymous with Sundays: baggy jeans, cosy knitwear, flowing skirts. The colour palette is light and bright, conveying a smug confidence that clothing will remain unbesmirched due to lack of activity. Bright white t-shirt loosely tucked into beige lounge trousers. A delicate slip skirt and an oversized knit cardigan. Wide legged trousers paired with a slouchy jumper. Clothing befitting the pace of the day, whether that be sprawled on the sofa or strolling around town.
One Sunday, I sat wearing my comfiest jeans and t-shirt, whilst a reel of instastories played the hits of brunch, a stack of magazines lay to my side and a podcast sang in the background. This was a good day. And why shouldn't it warrant its own uniform of wears befitting whatever the day should become. With life oft a rigid set of rules, deadlines and expectation, Sunday is a day of unobstructed time to spend as one desires. The palate cleanser of the week. The deep breath that everyone needs at the closing of one week and the beginning of another.
And just as work necessitates specific clothing, so too should a day of unsolicited 'you time'. A uniform of possibility and potential, to live out ones whims before the toll of Monday rings and we do it all over again.
(Photos : Unknown)
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