Six months into sitting at home wearing sweats, I'm antsy. I spent the first few months doing my best to simply get by, tucked into my little apartment on the Lower East Side, rotating the same two pairs of sweats day after day. The first time I tried on my blue jeans again, it was already June. They were admittedly snugger than I remember, but there was a freedom in finally putting them on and pulling together outfits around the jeans that used to be the singularly most important piece in my wardrobe. Now, I try to start every day with a routine that includes actually getting dressed. It's a mental trick — gaming myself into a lull of regularity — that's helped me to be more productive, and simply to feel better about myself too. While sweats were a small luxury when I was amidst the early-on panic, over time, they started to feel like a kind of hinderance. I used to love the challenge of getting dressed, looking into my closet and thumbing through sweaters and tops, tryi...