When Friday rolls around, the question most often asked around the office is, "So, what are you up to this weekend?" Right, well, whatever those plans may be; the fact of the matter is that half the time, those plans never measure up to the "Sunday Morning Fantasy." I had never heard the phrase coined before until the lovely Mindy Kaling detailed it on her blog: "I have discovered an extremely vulnerable and weirdly creative side of most women I know, that plan, cast, and set design how our Sunday mornings look in our futures. Like, somehow if a photographer where to surprise me at my house Sunday morning, I am doing something completely cool and photographable..."
I decided to ask two friends (one male and one female) to see what their Sunday Morning Fantasy at home would be. Their responses were a bit surprising, especially how detailed they were:
Carolyn: "My Sunday Morning Fantasy is in the kitchen with my husband, Clive Owen. We're having a cute little debate about whether or not we should use the French press to make coffee because he hates how the grinder is grinding the beans. After I promise that we will replace the grinder with some fancy new one he found on the internet (which I think is overly expensive, but he reasons that he got a cool few million starring in that crappy movie with Julia Roberts), we decide to spend the morning in the garage, fixing our vintage beach cruisers for an afternoon of biking on the boardwalk."
Andy: "Hmm...Sunday Morning Fantasy? Um, that would probably go something like this: After a night of heavy drinking, I wake up refreshed, not hungover at all. I praise the excellent workings of my liver. I also commend myself for being so charming even while annoyingly intoxicated since I wake up next to that hot girl who I run into constantly at the Mustard Seed. Anyway, we decide to make omelettes; and then I confess to her that not only do I love George Jones, but my favorite song ever is Hall & Oates, 'Private Eyes.' This bit of information, plus my snazzy sheets*, makes her fall madly in love with me. Best Sunday morning ever." (*Andy's "snazzy sheets" are Eileen Fisher washed linen sheets that his mother gave him for Christmas. Apparently, they're so amazing that even Maxwell "strongly recommends" them.)
Mindy Kaling: "Sunday Morning Fantasy #27 looks like this: Park Slope, Brooklyn. I am reading the Times Book Review and eating granola and fruit in these underwear and a tank top at my kitchen table with Pharell, my boyfriend. We argue whether George Saunders is funnier in fiction or non-fiction (I say fiction, by a factor of 10. Pharrell disagrees, he loves his journalism.). The arguing really begins to escalate until our good friend Ryan McGinley arrives and persuades us to go to BAM with him. Both Ryan and Pharrell agree that my underwear is adorable."
My own Sunday Morning Fantasy: I wake up in my bright, cheerful bedroom that looks eerily like Ione Skye's (pictured above, lower right). For breakfast, I go outside to pick oranges off my non-existent orange tree to make fresh squeezed juice, thinking it will go nicely with fresh croissants. I then wander into my living room (pictured above, left) to enjoy my breakfast and a book (currently reading: Nick Hornby's A Long Way Down). Right when I'm at a stopping point, my best friend John drops by with a copy of Bill Withers' Live at Carnegie Hall, a bottle of Woodford Reserve bourbon, and announces that he has discovered the most perfect mint julep recipe. We spend the rest of the morning outside with the dogs, sipping mint juleps like old ladies at the Kentucky Derby with big hats and singing snippets of "I can't write left-haaaanded..." (which is a lie, as we are both left-handed).
As wildly unrealistic a Sunday Morning Fantasy can be, what's great about it is that it often has elements that really are feasible and can be something new or different to try over an uneventful weekend. What's your Sunday Morning Fantasy?
P.S. For the sake of full disclosure, this is what my Sunday mornings usually look like:
(Top Images: Domino Magazine)