There are few arguments I feel are truly worth losing people over…wearing pajamas all-day is one of them. I do not know who started this fashion trend or why, but I need to express here, how grateful I am. To call what I sleep in nightly, “pjs,” is really to be too generous. Since it has finally decided to be summer weather outside, the large amount of my drawer-full of sweats are out. Instead? A pair of shorts (again, generous to call them shorts, more like a small piece of fabric with leg-holes and a tie), whatever t-shirt my hands reach first, and a flannel to cover the whole thing up. Said flannel is the only souvenir I have from my burgeoning lesbian days during my second year of college. It’s “vintage” from, Brandy Melville, back in the days when I could fit into their clothing (again generous, unless you’re a stick with a head). I wasn’t planning on wearing pj’s all day, but I’m starting to discover that they’re a great way to truly embrace the freelance lifestyle. I think people (and by people I mean me) have a misunderstanding about what my life entails. As of recently, I quit my job to pursue, this. You’re reading it. This is what I call work (and on some days it is). Mostly, it’s not.
I have heard this expression reiterated in writing workshop’s so often I’m thinking it must be true: if you can be anything else, be it. As in, being a writer is the equivalent of also taking the nickname– I-wore-these-clothes-yesterday and my-only-interactions-are-with-the-dog-boutique-downstairs. I spend a lot of time alone. As an introvert that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but if I’ve learned anything in the last four months, it’s this: there is such a thing as too much time alone.
My day’s are fill are things like: CVS trips to pick up my blood pressure medication, filling and re-filling the dog’s water dish, moving objects from place-to-place in my house to fill time, trying to stretch words into sentences into paragraphs into, inevitably, an essay. Well, not inevitably, more in-hopes-of, an essay. The closest writer that explains writing is Sloane Crosley. I just finished her latest book of essays, Look Alive Out There, and it gave me a renowned sense of pride: I too can do this thing. But that’s saying a lot. Because I’ve been wearing the same pair of pj shorts for three days, my hair doesn’t remember the last time it was washed, and my biggest breakthrough was experiencing the joy this morning of our new automatic, time-set, coffee maker. Hallelujah!
Anyway, pj’s all day. If you’re going to wear them they may as well be more flattering than mine. Here are some examples:
If I ever do make money from writing, my dream is to invest in a pair of monogrammed J.Crew pajamas. They just say, “I am the kind of person who owns monogrammed pajamas,” and I feel like I’d be friends with such a person.
These pajamas from Old Navy make up the majority of my “pajama drawer.” They make me laugh, they are a literal $1 during the holiday’s, and they have lasted years. I can’t ask much more.
My favorite web hit from Googling, “cute pajamas,” were these from The Company Store, which feels like a store that once ordered from sends you catalogues weekly.
The only upside to wearing these all day? Being able to move through your day without worrying about changing, hanging, and washing later on. I’ll take it, writing is hard enough.