During the Covid pandemic, something curious happened to our wardrobes. As the world turned upside down, our clothing choices reflected that chaos. I found myself wearing bras so infrequently that I’ve lost track of where they ended up. Meanwhile, I imagine Champion’s stock soared as everyone embraced the comfort of sweatpants, which shifted from symbols of “giving up” to cozy acceptance. We collectively decided we didn’t need to endure restrictive pencil skirts, crisp collared shirts, or even shoes while navigating this new reality.
Now that some restrictions have eased, it seems everyone around me is stepping up their fashion game—investing in stylish pants, loafers, and elasticized undergarments. But me? I’m not joining that parade.
For years, I’ve secretly longed to return to the uniform days of Regina Dominican High School, where we donned dreary houndstooth skirts and dingy white oxfords. I even had a breast-reducing vest (a polyester pullover known as a weskit). The only way to liven up our outfits was with micro-heeled shoes, which I stuffed under my bed—an impressive collection of painfully stylish flats.
When I finally escaped the confines of all-girls Catholic school in 1985, I splurged my birthday money on a wardrobe overhaul. Back then, self-expression was limited compared to today’s world of tattoos and piercings, so I chose stirrup pants, shoulder pads, and “Frankie Say Relax” cropped sweatshirts, draping them over my body like a canvas.
Looking back, I cringe not only at the styles but also at the sheer volume of clothing I accumulated. Yet, my closet isn’t exactly a minimalist’s dream. It’s bursting with business-casual attire I haven’t needed in over a decade, along with every knit or crocheted piece produced from 1977 to the 2010s. And skirts? I have a surplus.
Amidst this clothing chaos, I envisioned a time when jumpsuits would take the spotlight. Not the expensive dry-clean-only designer versions, but the kind reminiscent of the T-Birds in “Grease”—classic khaki coveralls. Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to find a pair like that, despite my nephew owning a garage.
Then, in mid-2020, I stumbled upon the perfect solution: my oversized, low-crotch “pandemic overalls.” They’re used, comfortable, and barely touch my skin. Initially, they served as home attire, preventing any accidental reveals while lounging on the couch. But soon, I ventured out to the Starbucks drive-thru in them and even walked my dogs—before 6 AM, of course.
I grew increasingly attached to my overalls. I could wear them multiple days in a row, layering up on cold mornings or opting for boxers on warmer days. Best of all, I could roll out of bed, slip them over my pajamas, and voilà—instant outfit! My over-accessorized wardrobe was distilled into one fabulous pair of full-body dungarees.
I expected to eventually retire my overalls, as my son suggested I resembled a rodeo clown. But honestly, they are here to stay. I wear them grocery shopping, to tennis matches, and even for coffee dates with friends. Surprisingly, I’ve received three compliments over the last 400 days—three more than I expected!
Not everyone appreciates my fashion choice. During a visit to my octogenarian mother, she almost forbade me from leaving the house in them. My brother wants me to attend church with him but insists I change out of my overalls first. And one guy even said I looked like I belonged on the set of “Deliverance.”
But these comfy, casual overalls are my new norm because they make me feel good. I embrace the freedom of not worrying about uncomfortable clothing. There’s no digging into my skin or adjusting the tag to the right position. I can go about my day without fussing over how I look, and that’s incredibly liberating.
Sure, there’s pressure from family (yes, Mom, I’m talking about you) to maintain a “presentable” appearance. I might invest in a couple of nicer pairs for weddings or funerals—nobody wants to overshadow a bride or a corpse. But for everyday wear, my overalls are here to stay.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll become a trendsetter, inspiring others to embrace the practicality of unflattering yet liberating denim jumpsuits. But honestly, I couldn’t care less because it feels like I’ve finally found my fashion soulmate.
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Summary
The pandemic has drastically changed our clothing choices, leading to a shift towards comfort over style. While many have embraced more flattering attire as restrictions ease, I’ve found my sanctuary in oversized “pandemic overalls.” These garments symbolize freedom and comfort, allowing me to navigate daily life without the constraints of traditional fashion. Despite the occasional side-eye from family and friends, I’m committed to my unflattering yet liberating style.
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