Hygge, Helen style

Like Mali, my version of hygge does not involve naked neighbours in any way, shape or form (statement subject to change if a fine-formed man moves into the neighbourhood). I’m sure they feel the same way about me. 

Instead, my hygge involves food and comfortable clothing. In fact, now that I think about it, my way of dressing could best be described as “hygge.” One of my favourite brands is Cut Loose. I have mentioned this before, but I once met a man who wondered why the clothing of women who travel a lot resembles drapes. I suspect he would now consider me one of those women.

And for me, the most hygge-ish food is grilled cheese. Or macaroni and cheese. Or lasagna. Or pizza. So, pretty much any blend of carbohydrates—and if it’s pizza, wood-fired carbs are best—and molten cheese. This is why, despite aspirations to become a vegan, I have never successfully made the transition. Cheeze or Sheese in any way, shape or form just isn’t hygge. 

And now I am going to contradict the statement I made at the beginning of the second paragraph, but I’m not worried about this because worry and hygge make poor bedmates. If hygge means enjoying simple pleasures, then my ultimate hygge is to wake up on Sunday morning with no plans until at least 2:30 p.m. and to sip my coffee, and then another coffee, and read the newspaper—not in digital format, but in real page-turner form—for as long as it pleases me. Which this morning was about two hours. Unwisely, I made plans for 1:30 p.m. today, and so I am rushing to finish this and to get ready to leave the house. Time to don some drapes, a hat to cover my hair, which with each passing day more closely resembles Phyllis Diller’s in the screenshot below, and burst my cozy (“cosy” for Mali) hygge bubble.