Testing out winter garb for upcoming condo stays, I had to crop my bed-head out of these shots because it was simply unacceptable. The outfit, admittedly, isn’t much better, but for winter nights in Boston it’s perfect. Fuzzy long underwear and a soft (and Delusionally-Grand and bunny-like) t-shirt are all I need to bundle up and hunker down in one of the few spaces on this earth where I’ve always felt completely safe.
There are a number of situations where fashion takes a backseat to function and circumstance, and winter nights constitute just such a condition. I’ll pardon all sorts of otherwise-criminal fashion choices when it gets frigid. I usually don’t share such moments, but since turning 40 I’m a little more open to revealing the ugly (and silly) truth about things, including what I wear to bed. And it doesn’t get much uglier than this.
Hey, when you know the rules you can break them.
