From a very young age, my mother instilled in me the importance of having three distinct sets of clothing: outerwear, loungewear, and sleepwear. Things worn in public were “dirty,” she said—you never know what you sat in—hence the importance of changing into cleaner, more comfortable clothing as soon as one came home. What we wore around the house, however, might not be conducive to sleeping—e.g., come winter we bundle up but as soon as we hop into bed, covers get kicked off in the dead of night and we wake up sweating—so thus, the sleepwear.
To this day, I still change into “comfy clothes” first thing when I get home. I will never understand how or why, rather, people willingly choose to “relax” in jeans, and my friends will never get why I always need a heads up before they come over.
What she also tried to teach me, however, was that what we wore within the privacy of our own homes didn’t matter. It’s not like anyone’s going to see you, she would said with utmost pragmatism (she was a practical woman, this one, and despite never understanding why a little girl needed a Barbie in her playtime repertoire, I’m forever grateful I wasn’t raised with plastic dolls), and she’d hand over an old, camp t-shirt for me to wear around the house. It was relatively comfy—I’ll give her that much—but aesthetics are important to me. (That, or I’ve been a snob since childhood…) For the most part I never really dressed for others anyway, and if anything, what I wore at home was more important to me than what I wore out-of-doors. My reasoning was reduced to this analogy: we design and decorate the interior of our homes to reflect who we are, to inspire us (especially for those who do most of our work at home), and thus our home attire should do the same. Amiright? My mom still rolls her eyes when I justify spending on a new pyjama set, satin robe, or silk slip. (The same goes for workout attire: it’s going to get sweaty anyway! she insists, but I refuse the ratty tee!) Sorry, ma.
And isn’t there some adage about how “it’s what you do when no one’s watching that’s most definitive of your character” (said more eloquently than my rendition, of course) floating around every other Instagram page? Taking pride in your loungewear is the sartorial equivalent: how you dress around the house and for bed speaks volumes of who you are (and who you want to be).
Is it some marketing ploy? Probably. Scratch that—definitely. But it’s got some validity, no? Humor me for a moment, then: what of the girl who wears old band tees and frilly, sheer knickers to bed? The monogrammed pajama set? Silk and satin teddies? Old college sweatsuits? Nothing?
But in the interest of full disclosure, I’ll have you know that I’m currently writing this in sweatpants because (a) I’ve just come home from a heatless garage studio, and it’s the dead of winter here in NJ, and (b) sometimes it’s just too damn cold for anything cute. I draw the line at 32 degrees, babes, and if my onesie weren’t in the wash, I’d be in there like swimwear. Hypocritical? Or bad timing? Regardless, I’ll have you know that when push comes to shove, I’m partial to the VS Pink line for sweats. (Judge me all you want, it’s the Internet after all.) Under normal circumstances—normal being relative, here—I’m a sucker for a matching pyjama set (one day, Olivia von Halle, one day) and love a slinky nightie here and there. Current living situations might impede on the latter, as well as any fantasies of wearing this approximation, but a well-stocked drawer is at the ready.
What I do realize, though, is that what I lounge around in and wear to bed—and incidentally wake up in—does make my life a little better. I’m not ashamed of loving beautiful things, aesthetics are incredibly important to me. I’m a firm believer that indulging in yourself. Allowing yourself the luxury of enjoying and celebrating you for you—without feeling the need to impress others—is paramount. It’s largely the reason why I’m more willing to spend on loungerie/lingerie than any other type of clothing despite my mother’s upbringing; it’s all for me, myself, and I. No one has to see it for affirmation or approval, period. Plus, work seems to flow more easily when I’m in a Stella body, and mornings (no matter how early) seem a little brighter.
. . .
What do you wear to bed? Spill, it’s only the Internet after all.
xx
Your turn. Thoughts?