How to Jazz Up a Sunday

Joss Peter (she/her)

@foxymoron98

Joss Peter is a writer hailing from Eora. She has been published by VICE, Refinery29, Purple Sneakers & Pedestrian.TV. She finds writing artist bios in 3rd person awkward and is excited for when she’s successful enough that someone else will do it for her.

Not to get too philosophical or anything, but the best thing about a Sunday is that it’s a Sunday. And the worst thing about a Sunday is that it is, well, a Sunday. 

They’re marred by hangovers- a write off day. One that you don’t feel too grim about spending a day in bed Uber Eats-ing from the cafe around the corner. But with too many Sundays doing approximately fuck all, comes a certain angst. A teenage-d ennui. A restlessness is ignited. 

My friend tells me only boring people get bored- I disagree. Hello! I’m literally living proof. I have sulked (privately- nobody likes a whinger!) and now I am shirking that stuffy cloak of bad vibes. Here, I present to you my list of ideas to spice things up a hungover Sunday, where everything just feels a little bit boring. 

Visit an art gallery

Now, I don’t pretend to know the first thing about art. Nor am I particularly impassioned by it, but that’s never quite been the point of visiting a gallery for me. The point is, obviously, to feel glam and chic and European to the nth degree. It's about feeling like you’ve got an hour to kill before meeting up with your delicious new lover, so you just popped in. Also, the colours are pretty nice.

Buy a pair of famous sunnies

“What are famous sunglasses?” I hear you ask.

Well, sweet reader, they are sunglasses that make you feel fucking famous. This is a real does what it says on the tin situation. These sunglasses, whilst an exercise in eyecare (you’re welcome future me!) are more mental stimulation. These are to be worn whilst doing literally everything- buying canned tuna, shitting, penning your memoir, to give all your mundane affairs an air of mystique or je ne sais quoi. 

Host a dinner party

Invite around a selection of darlings (dear friends or a mixed bag), cook something divine (or divine adjacent if you have similar kitchenette abilities to moi) and throw on a red lip. Listen to The Daily or some newsy blah blah beforehand so you can have a raucous debate about worldly things and accidentally fling the wine in your glass on the wall whilst making a very well informed and articulate point. 

If you’re not feeling up for politics, my friend has this brilliant idea for a mob wife dinner where you invite a handful of your most hardened girlfriends around, dress up in fabulous fur coats, smoke cigarillos, play poker and complain about your very dangerous and very sexy (fictional) husbands. 

Read in a cafe 

If I’m perfectly honest, cafes are not the best place to read in. There’s always a crying child or a boring conversation that my nosy little ears can’t help tuning in to. Despite all its hurdles,  there’s genuinely nothing more cosmopolitan than parking up solo with a book and a brew (iced oat latte with honey- DUH! I’m not an animal). Bonus points if you bring a journal to scribble into. 

Change your sheets

Whenever I was bored when I was younger and I complained to Mum, she’d say “why don’t you clean your room?”. No offence Mum, but what astonishingly poor advice. Was this my introduction into productivity culture? An early ambush on an otherwise innocent mind? But seriously, who wants to clean their room at the best of times? That’s why I’m suggesting changing the sheets. A task (granted you own a second pair of sheets) that will be ticked off the to do list in less than five clicks of the old clock. And taadaa- your bedroom is now your boudoir! There are genuinely few things in life that make you feel sexier than yummy laundered bedding. The few things that do make you feel sexier: gorgeously tailored pants, ordering a negroni, eating a caprese salad. Actually shagging definitely sits further down the list. 

Organise a clothes swap

Remember all those beautiful clothes you bought during lockdown which you now hate?

Yes I’m looking at you, you cheeky bitch! 

I hate to say it (sorry I’m literally capitalism’s handmaiden) but nothing puts a pep in my step like something new. Organise a clothes swap for you and your most sartorially inclined friends. Was that the breeze or Mother Nature whispering that she thinks you’re simply the most stylishly sustainable diva this side of the bridge? God she’s a flirt!

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