More than a garment, my sarong has become my comfort zone. Gifted to me from my parents' last trip to Italy, I wrap her around me and it feels like a hug from them. Specially these days when I can't see them. Just like their love- this sarong is unconditional. It sits on my hips no matter what size I am, what time of day it is, or what I do (or don’t) wear on top with it. Won’t judge me, won’t deny me, won’t scold me. Like a mother’s love all it wants to do is comfort me, support me, and grow with me. Alas, I’ve felt so inspired by this “hero” piece in my wardrobe for quarantine I’d say a little ode is in place for her today:
I hang around the house in a sarong all day,
With a glass of rosé "to kill time" I say.
I’ve learned my favorite thing to play
My sarong is my go-to at home- it’s cray,
Won’t judge me, squeeze me, or leave me at bay.
It wraps itself around me no matter which way.
In its own way it tells me “everything is okay”.
My mom gifted it to me one day,
Back when I lived in Half Moon Bay.
Last night I wore it while I watched Castaway
Without my sarong I’d be lost -Oy Vey.
I’m looking forward to next month come what May,
"One size fits all" I say!
ABOVE: Me at home in my sarong, with a nearly empty glass of Rosé & Free People bralette.
🏡 Stay Home, Siren.
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