A version of this article also appeared in the It’s Not Just You newsletter. Sign up here to receive a new edition every Sunday.Well hello! I’m so glad you’re here. As always, you can send comments to me at: Susanna@Time.com.

I walked out of my apartment last Sunday afternoon like a Pandemic Eve, leaving her quarantine garden, still blissfully unselfconscious about how I looked, which was ridiculous. There were the mud boots I’ve been wearing daily since November because they’re so easy, the frayed yoga pants, and a workout shirt that is the color of a traffic cone. But what really tied it all together was the fact that I found each piece on the same chair in my bedroom.

Maybe it was the wider distribution of vaccines, the mild weather, or both, but when the dog and I got to the park, it was a scene, a Brooklyn happening. There was a picnic grouping every ten feet–a rolling party that stretched for at least a mile of meadow with more humans in one place than I’ve seen in 18 months.

And most of those people were wearing clothes they’d chosen intentionally. It seemed like they cared about what they looked like. There was accessorization. And wine. You could hear wisps of music and smell the earth, freshly turned over by spring worms, and there was a hint of something sugary in the air, something new.

All those picnic blankets would have looked like clusters of flowers in an expanse of muddy not-yet-grass if you had an aerial view. There were bouquets of golden birthday balloons (mostly for people turning 30), and young moms who’d circled their strollers to contain wild, joyful babies. Dudes with porkpie hats sat next to their vintage musical instruments. And there were nuzzling couples with their limbs bent toward each other like fronds.

It was glorious.

But I felt like the ghost of quarantine past. No one told me we were supposed to be wearing real clothes again. Or maybe there is some other park for the still-frumpy and confused?

I don’t know, but I’ll probably have to brush my hair before I go to the park tomorrow, maybe even wear hard-soled shoes and hard pants Just imagine doing that sort of thing every single day again?

In the before times, it was exhausting to keep recalibrating our social and sartorial capital to …read more

Source:: Time – Health

      

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