If there are two things that I am highly susceptible to it’s glamour and also supreme comfort. You might think these two weaknesses exist on quite opposite ends of a spectrum, but I assure you they do not.
I know this because I just wore striped silk pyjamas to Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week in Sydney and I’ve honestly never felt so great. Or comfortable. Like, movie star in the 40s great, or Coco Chanel smoking cigarettes in her white silk pyjamas kind of great. There’s nothing quite so chic as a slightly louche woman who really doesn’t care for either fools or fashion.
This is exactly the kind of person that I hoped to become when I finally added my striped silk set from Olivia Von Halle to my basket after months of scrolling through their Instagram feed and noting that Alexa Chung once wore the same pair that I bought. I spent a lot of time idly wondering if I too could wear pyjamas to a pool party like the people on Instagram did. Or in the streets of New York.
The answer is … hopefully.
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Of course, I’m very late to the pyjamas as day trend – by the time I got to it, it has been spotted on Gigi Hadid (green and white striped) and on the catwalk at Gucci and J Crew, and worn by members of the street style set including Chiara Ferragni and Margaret Zhang.
Poppy Delevingne wore animal print pyjamas to the Cartier party earlier this month in LA to relaunch 80s classic watch, the Panthere, and Sienna Miller wore a white silk slip and blouson silky pyjama pants. Both were chic, chic, chic and also incredibly sexy. The kind of woman that I would hope to be – i.e. the kind who is confident enough to wear her pyjamas with purpose. To push up the sleeves and put on some towering heels and for it to never occur to anybody that I have just rolled out of bed and has given up on life and/or getting dressed.
And that is the slightly shaky bit. The confidence.
“Tell me what you really think,” I ask my husband. His suspicions, quite rightly, are raised by this deadly and impossible question.
He takes in my pyjamas, my heels and my hair (that I can’t stop nervously fluffing).
“Um,” he says. “You’ll probably be OK when you get there?” He is motioning vaguely towards, one supposes, fashion week and fashion week people.
And indeed, as I made my way through the Mother’s Day crowds enjoying their family lunches I did feel ever-so-slightly self-conscious in my pyjamas. I consoled myself with the memory of society beauty Diana Mitford’s wedding when her nanny told her to stop fussing because “nobody’s going to be looking at you anyway.”
Because the thing is, nobody is really looking at you. Except at fashion week when people are, but only fleetingly and to critique, approve or dismiss in an instant. Only the truly show-offish or stylish warrant another look.
Which is why I think pyjamas as daywear should stay on, long after it falls out of fashion. There’s something so freeing about wearing something that both puts you out of your comfort zone and that is also the most comfortable thing you will wear. I simply zoomed across the seat on my Uber, so silky were my trousers, and I slunk my way around the Dion Lee show feeling very nonchalant and sort of anti-style.
Most importantly, a former colleague told me that I looked like a movie star, which is quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to me, and I have my pyjamas – and the possibilities of the woman that I could be when wearing them – to thank.
I’m never taking them off.