Pajamas Are Just Suits That Quit

 I remember the days when everyone owned pants with zippers. Several pairs of them, in fact. There was tailoring, sharp creases, pleating, and pockets that didn't sag like the jowls of a bulldog.

People who wore those pants had their lives in order. Those types of slacks inferred that someone also owned a watch that wasn't digital and they actually ironed things on purpose.

And then the world changed.

Remote work became the pinnacle. Lockdowns had us in our domiciles so long that elastic waistbands started seducing us with their promises of all-day comfort. Before we could say "pass the banana bread," society began it descent into the abyss of fuzzy footwear and comfy fabrics.

Sure, those materials could catch on fire if you stand too close to the TV, but they are comfortable.

And for a time, I embraced the new pajama overlords.

The Slow Surrender

It began innocently enough. A Wednesday morning Zoom call and a sudden realization that nobody could see my legs. That may have contributed to a few questionable decisions.

Because that one small seed of delusional logic soon blossomed into a lifestyle.

I'd wear a stiff collared shirt and tie on top, but a pair of fuzzy checkered slippers and silky boxers under the viewing radar. I once wore a speedo with a Ralph Lauren button down shirt and created an outfit I called "breezy chic." 

Not to be confused with my other style,"freezy cheeks," which is visually much more terrifying. It was beautiful. It was comfortable. It was freedom.

Fast forward a few weeks, and even the shirts got lazier. Collars that curled at the ends like they were having a conversation with my shoulders. "Hey, how's it goin', Mark?"

A button went M.I.A. That prompted the full-on leap into the hoodie phase - hood up, camera off, and a renewed belief in the energy-giving power of breakfast for dinner.

I called them "lounge sets" instead of pajamas. To me it sounded upscale, like I was on a long weekend foray of team building instead of avoiding my emails and eating Cheerios from a coffee mug.

The Evolution of De-Dress

As a group, we can't even pretend I was the only one.  I think we all lowered the bar somewhere along the way. Like we all progressed to the next limbo stage. How low can we go?

Low enough that our Brady Bunch grids of presentability were diametrically proportionate to our below camera dishevel diva. We wore pajamas as if we had the week off, on vacation, and the only thing we packed were the jammies.

A friend told me he caught himself wearing the same flannel shorts three days in a row and only changed them because he spilled chili on them during an online performance review. 

People started casually reclining during business calls. One guy coughed so loudly that he knocked over a floor lamp, and everyone was too busy trying to mute him that we all forgot to ask if he was okay.

And "business casual" has been refined to something more along the line of "business questionable."

And it's not just the workplace that's been affected. Boundaries are blurred everywhere, if they exist at all. Even I've gone to the grocery store in what I like to now call "emergency flannel." 

Or, as wearing pj's to public places is more widely known: Walmart Formal.

Signs You May Have Fully Embraced the Pajama Life

Here's how you can judge for yourself. The pajama progression chart:

• You own more drawstrings than belts.
• You've attended a Zoom call in a bathrobe and made no attempt to justify it.
• Your 'outside shoes' are actually just ambitious crocs.
• You refer to anything with a zipper as "Uch"
• You've used the phrase "They're basically dressed-up jeans" to describe sweatpants.
• You've declared that slippers with the little rubber anti-slip nubs count as hiking boots
• Pouring a little extra milk on afternoon cereal has become "gourmet cooking."

If you answered yes to three or more of these than give yourself a round of applause. You're no longer dressing for the job you want, but the nap you deserve.

Accessorizing Your Overnight-Wear

Okay, we've almost mastered the fine art of looking mildly presentable while remaining aloof inside. But we need to accessorize for those fine finishing touches. This is a new fashion I call Pajathleisure: the curated illusion of mixing pajamas with athletic and leisure items and calling it effort.

• The Statement Blanket: This beautiful accessory doubles as both fashion and fortification. An aggressive pattern on a throw blanket says "I'm cold, checked out emotionally, and I dare you to try forcing me to attend an in-person anything."

• Slipper-Shoes: Hybrids. Half-loafer, half-moccasin. Full on betrayal of your motivation. These abominations make you feel like you've taken the time to get ready. Ummm, you stood up.

• The Prop Coffee: Holding a mug makes you look active. A lesson I learned from a supervisor who walked around all day with a clipboard and a cup of tea. It's making a comeback because it eludes to your busyness, even if it's been empty long enough for the leftover sugar sludge to grow blue fur. You get hero status if you pretend to sip from it dramatically mid-meeting. It fools people into believing you're thinking about business instead of Googling "can I get bleeding gums and scurvy from granola."

The Pants That Wait

I open my closet sometimes and stare at them. Lonely slacks, button-downs with the blues, and leather shoes. Lined up like displays in a museum nobody visits. I imagine them whispering among themselves late at night:

"Do you think he'll enjoy wearing us again?"

"I don't know. Maybe if it's for a wedding?"

"He wore an undershirt that's basically a belly-shirt and says "Dad Bod" to his last job interview. There's no hope."

They're right. I'm too far gone.

Of course, there are weekly occasions where I have to get more formally dressed. I put on those dress pants, a belt, and a good shirt. I stand tall and feel a resurging confidence.

Then I sit down and lose feeling in both thighs.

And I remember that pajamas don't judge. Pajamas understand. Pajamas let me blame Dave for the last three bags of chips and dance to the Bee Gees on my front porch without feeling weird.

Formal Apologies to Formalwear

To all my ties I say, "I'm sorry." You are beautiful, and I don't wear you nearly enough because of your formality and because you're impractical beachwear. I don't always like you and Dad hated you before hating you was okay.

To my blazer that I've gained 5 pounds too much to wear, "You made me look like an underpaid English professor from the 1970's whose brilliance flew under the radar. You've been replaced for the rubber coating covering my rock solid abs."

To that one dress-shirt at the back of the closet, "I never should have taken you to that all-night, all you can eat taco truck."

I still love most of you. But I love unencumbered breathing and unexpectedly crouching without ripping sounds even more.

Our Bottom Line (tee hee)

We've been told from youth to dress for success. But what if success looks different now, and the dress-code that goes with it? What if comfort, health, and not having a button imprinted on your actual belly button is the true measure of greatness now?

Pajamas just might be more than sleepwear. They could be a rejection of theatrics that pretend to be productive. Possibly even a rejection of all pretense. After all, they could boldly claim, "Know what? You tried today. Sit your butt down and enjoy a piece of toast. Make it whole wheat though, I miss Professor You."

Yeah. Maybe pajamas aren't suits that quit, just ones that retired early and invested in a hammock.

If you're reading this while wearing something held up by an elastic band, hello, you're among friends. And if it's zippers and belts doing all the heavy lifting? I admire you. But I'm also assuming that you have a dentists appointment or a parent-teacher meeting later.