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As a woman on the move, Skye Mallac is a self-proclaimed sucker for a good pair of leggings which can do just about anything. From the jungles and the mountains of Costa Rica, to the chilly streets of Istanbul, and through a locked down NYC on a homeward bound adventure to return to South Africa mid 2020, Skye's trusty pair of GLOW served as her constant travel companion whatever the weather.
They're worn at the knees from planting trees, and stitched in unlikely places from ill-informed brambles. They've seen a lot of tears, some blood and bruises, and a whole lot of laughter. Here is their (her) story.
I’m a sucker for a good pair of leggings. Throw in a zesty aloe print to turn them into practical party pants and I’m sold. I also have the tendency to wear one thing - and one thing only - if I like it enough and I’ve got to be honest and tell you these leggings have been peeled off my legs only to throw them in the laundry.
As a woman on the move, I prefer to live in the practical, comfortable and groovy side of clothing. Leggings are a staple when most of your life consists of missioning from one place to the next. Long flights, bus rides, treks on foot to the next destination.
My GLOW danced me into the 2020 new year, under the stars. They took me on a 3 day adventure of flights and excessive layovers across the world from South Africa to Costa Rica. They walked the cobbled, chilly streets of Istanbul, dusted with Turkish Delight sugar, and baklava crumbs. They took me into bustling Panama, kept me warm on an icey air-conditioned night bus up to the Costa Rican border. I only peeled them off when I clambered down the steps into Puerto Viejo, the cloying Caribbean heat finally getting the best of me.
My GLOW kept the mosquitos away in my jungle home of Punta Mona, nestled on the edge of primary rainforest and the tepid Caribbean sea. They left the coast and took me up, up into the mountains to hike the chilly, misty forest of the Cerro de la Muerte, through mossy forests, mushroom hunting. My GLOW kept me warm as the mists rolled in as we ascended the first three kilometers of Mount Chirripo and we watched the treetops get swallowed up in cloud and drank it in.
My GLOW brought me home again. On a week-long trek across continents in the midst of a pandemic. They brought me back to home soil. They took me to a locked down New York City, slowly breathing back to life. They walked the streets of a boarded-up Times Square, and the flashing yet silent stretch of Broadway. They took me on empty subways across the city, and walked the winding paths of Central Park. They made me stand out when I was trying to blend in, a wide-eyed tourist in a time of no tourism.
My GLOW boarded a plane for Amsterdam, paced the quiet building until a repatriation flight took off with 150 previously stranded South Africans with a sigh of relief. They kept me warm though the dry, chilly Johannesburg winter, saw me buy my first car and drive it back down to the Garden Route.
My GLOW have taken me around the world only to bring me right back home again. To the familiar Garden Route Forests, the wide expanse of the Robberg peninsula, treading familiar paths with familiar friends.
They’re worn at the knees, stitched in unlikely places from ill-informed brambles. They’re splattered with white paint from a stint painting walls in the mountains of Costa Rica in exchange for a small, un-insulated cabin and a comfortable bed. They have every story they’ve witnessed stitched into their seams, soaked into the cuffs, smudged onto the thighs.
They’ve seen a lot of tears, some blood and bruises, laughs and a lover’s touch. My GLOW have taken me on some wild adventures. Where will yours take you?