Late to the Pajama Party

I am always late. Always. Despite being the punctual one in my family (sorry Mom & Dad, but it's just not our skill set) I am the late one in the real world. I am always "working on it" and "getting so much better" but eventually I will have to accept that I can neither pass by a puppy without saying hello nor gauge the correct amount of time it takes for me to get myself out the door.

I am also late when it comes to trends. And I usually change my mind when I see the potential for comfort. For example, I was completely anti-leggings until I realized that they were like tights for people who don't hate their crotch*.

Ponchos and capes seemed silly and over dramatic until I realized it would be like walking around wrapped in a blanket. Also, they're fantastically silly and over dramatic!

The latest trend that I've turncoated on is pajama pants. They were all over the spring runways and I scoffed until I realized that it meant we could wear pajama pants. In public! To parties! With no judgement! 

Jonathan Saunders

Jil Sander

Stella McCartney

Antonio Marras

As always, I decided to try this trend with a cheap Goodwill find before splurging. And I lucked out with a fantastic Brooks Brothers pajama set. So after the party I can bumble home, throw on the pajama top, shove the boy over and be done with it.

As I put them on I wondered if I was brave enough to do it. Then I thought about my upcoming quarter century birthday and I thought, 'now is the time to experiment with stupid trends. If I don't wear these, what will I regret wearing later?'

Because I think a crucial part of getting older is looking at pictures of yourself when you were younger and thinking "I'm so glad I obsessively wore sunscreen. And so sad that I wore that while doing so."

It's all about the accessories here. Heels are crucial.

Besides, this trend is so oddly glamorous. It takes a real woman not to wear real pants. Like Auntie Mame or Alexis from Dynasty or Norma Desmond. By the way, after 4-6 glasses of champagne, I do a spot on Swanson impression if you needed any impetus to buy me a drink.

Eat it, Lalique

P.S.  For you. And me. Mostly me.


*that said, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: leggings aren't pants. Not gym pants, not pants pants, not pants under a long shirt. They just aren't pants.