Let's Get Breakfast

don't hit snooze, it'll be worth getting out of bed for

Jul 13, 2024

I want pancakes. Or French toast. Maybe a croissant. Or does an omelette sound better? But what about the pancakes. We’ll probably just get a few things to split in the end. Hopefully they’ll bring the syrup in one of those mini jugs. Soft scramble or fried over medium, you’ll ask. We’ll mull it over, think we’ve decided and then end up ordering both at the last minute for fear of egg regret.

If we’re lucky the faint music overhead will play Freak Like Me by Macy Gray, followed by Dido’s White Flag as if the playlist were streaming directly from my nostalgic dreams. I want to slide into a booth, the seats still a little warm from the years of breakfast-goers that came before us. We’ll sink into the soft, probably red, leather and attempt to open the three-page menus before getting distracted by the stories we’ve been saving for this reunion. We’ll ask for a couple more minutes before ordering and the server will politely leave us to make zero decisions and continue chatting across closed menus. I imagine they’ll head to the back and let the other staff know we’re probably going to be here a while. And they’d be right.

After almost thirty minutes of navigating the potential breakfast options, we’ll land on a perfect combination for sharing plus two heavy white mugs of drip coffee. And a hope for free refills. You’ll tell me about the whole ordeal of moving into your new apartment in the city. One expensive van hire, a chipped side table, and more books than the local library later and it was all arranged with a Tetris-like quality into a square footage to call your own. The coffee will arrive to line our empty stomachs, filling our hollow bodies up with steam. We’ll be on our second cups when what feels like the entire menu arrives at our table. Our prior conversation will be forgotten in an instant as plates are placed in front of widening eyes. Maybe we ordered too much - a thought we’ll share in a single glance across the table. I’ll split the pancakes down the middle with the side of my fork as you tear a pastry in half and ask which side I want.

The chatter will pick back up as the golden tones of breakfast become part of our table, as though the food were included in our initial table allocation. I hope it’ll be raining as the window condensation at our booth turns to water droplets, sliding down in drips parallel to those hitting the pavement outside. I’ll be glad you texted to remind me to grab my umbrella on the way out the door. I’ll bring up the winter wedding invites that we both got this week. We’ll wonder when everyone grew up; when we got old enough to be considered acceptable wedding guests who obviously wouldn’t run around at the reception or tuck into the cake early. It’ll feel a bit sad for a second as we both worry about aging and stare into our messy plates. And then you’ll ask me if I want to know something scandalous about someone we know and the warm air will feel electric again as our humble breakfast booth fills with gleeful anticipation reminiscent of school cafeteria gossip from the previous decade.

I’ll tuck a leg up onto the booth seat, ankle under the crook of the opposite knee as you deliver no business of our own, emphasising each point with a wafting triangle of pancake on the end of your fork. We’ll indulge in our words and an excess of syrup and starch on this gloomy morning. And it’ll be the perfect breakfast.

by Stephen Shore, king of the diner breakfast photo

“Are we doing comfy outfits and multiple cups of coffee this morn? Please say yes.”

I know you’re thinking a white jean is risky around syrup, sauce and tar-black coffee but any stains will simply serve as reminder of a really good breakfast. Go for a denim that knows you well. A little bit baggy, well worn and beloved is necessary for a meal jean. A jumper must be included. (I’m thinking a J. Crew funnel roll neck type). A sweater, a sweatshirt, a chunky knit or even a cashmere blend because maybe you’re that fancy even at breakfast. Just try not to forget it because any form of added comfort will make the most important meal of the day all the more cozy. It’s maybe the closest thing to showing up in pyjamas you’ll get to. Like a slice of knit heaven to go with your slice of blueberry pie.

For a fit with closer proximity to pyjamas - nose pressed to the window closeness - opt for a vintage track pant. The Adidas ones are particularly stylish thanks to multiple colour combinations and leg shapes. They’re actually one of my current item searches on resale sites because I want to sport pyjama-adjacent outfits every single day. A loose, flowy long skirt would also achieve this in a potentially more chic way. Pair with a simple t-shirt, and the jumper I told you to bring, to complete the comfort requirement. Shoes-wise I’d always opt for a flat ideal for racing down the pavement out of the rain. In this case I’d go for a slim trainer (see: sneaker) like the recently vilified samba, or the onitsukas, SL72s, puma sportstyle shape. If you do feel you so desperately need a shoe like this, please check on resale/secondhand sites first. And try to find the leather ones made pre plastic production lines. It’ll help avoid that trendy feeling you might dread. My black and yellow sambas are leather with the indoor dark brown gum sole. They cost me £30 on vinted close to brand new and once I broke them in they became comfortable cushions that dress down every fit really well. And they’ll last me many breakfasts. In a similar way, I think an absolutely adored loafer would work as a good shoe for this occasion.

The overarching idea for a getting-breakfast outfit is that you need to be comfortable enough to share way too much food with really good company and then proceed to get up and walk somewhere else without undoing any buttons or zippers. So any of the following may work. Remember to shop your wardrobe first. Not only to halt overconsumption but also because nothing will be comfier than the clothes that already know you.