Here’s Why I Wear My PJ’s At Any Chance I Get

"While I’m very style-conscious in the streets, I’m an absolute curry-stained pjs slob in the sheets"

Do you have outside and inside clothes? Well, I do. It’s clear that some people never got the memo about inside and outside clothes. They’ll combine the two into a Frankenstein, marinating in an outfit at the office all day, only to come back home in the evening and continue the marinating on the sofa until bedtime. Couldn’t be me though. I have a strict regime when it comes to getting home from anywhere – my dog must be rubbed and I have to dart upstairs to change into my comfortable clothes immediately afterward.

While I’m very style-conscious in the streets, I’m an absolute curry-stained pjs slob in the sheets. To put it frank, the person my postman sees is not the same person the people who follow me on Instagram see. I feel no pressure to look a certain way when I’m at home, comfort is my one and only priority and I won’t allow any pair of rigid jeans get in between me and my downtime. It’s full goblin mode for me, any aesthetic I try to muster up when I’m dressing for the outside world is forgotten about when I throw on my comfies.

To give you a decent visual, it’s most often an oversized hoodie, likely laced with bobbles, (and not a cute Ariana Grande style oversized one either, we’re talking a Transition Year play hoodie here) joggers which are also usually covered in bobbles, and fluffy socks on the feet, always. For the face it has to be makeup-less, some sudocrem to accessorise and the highest bun gravity will allow as the piece de resistance. The clothes I wear inside my house vs the ones I wear outside are so distinct from one another, that my aforementioned dog immediately knows something is up when I’m putting my outside clothes on, i.e. I’ll be leaving.

It unsettles me to think of all the people around the globe potentially chilling in their sitting room right now as we speak, wearing the same outfit they threw on this morning – and probably with their main light on too no less, because feck relaxation. But, to bring compassion to the situation, I have a hypothesis on the two camps. Whether you’re firmly team loungewear or acutely team anti-loungewear, I think we’re all battling our own demons, in the least dramatic way possible. As much as I live for my comfy clothes and will defend them with my dying breath, I can admit that I do understand the logic some people might have for being against them.

Loungewear, pyjamas, sweats, they’re most often associated with two things, sadness and laziness. What was Bridget Jones wearing when she sang ‘All By Myself’? And what did Chandler wear for a week straight when he found out his girlfriend Kathy was cheating on him? Inside clothes are marketed in a clever way to suggest that the person inside them is either a) a slob, b) depressed, or c) both. They don’t require the same forethought that real clothes do, they can be picked up from your bedroom floor and thrown back on the next day with no consideration. It’s no wonder some people rebel against them, so as to prove to both others and themselves that by looking put together at all times, they have their lives in order too.

As for the rest of us who relish in the opportunity to throw on our housecoats, it could be possible that we’re a bunch of people who enjoy comfort, yes, but also could suffer from a touch of germaphobia too, perhaps? Having certain clothes reserved only for inside gives a certain peace of mind, knowing that the outside world hasn’t polluted the fabrics with germs or dirt. This is particularly important during pandemic times, when all of us huddled up in our loungewear, maybe that was our subconscious way of taking control of a situation we had no control over? Or, maybe we just love to be good to ourselves.

When I’m in my comfy clothes, there’s no pressure on me to be anything but me. My appearance has no importance and the people who get to see me in my comfy clothes have no expectations of me, it’s freeing and comfortable. I truly believe that one of life’s most simple pleasures is whipping off your shirt and slacks from a day spent in the outside world and slinking into something fluffy instead, ready for a wild night of snoozing on the sofa. Now, is it 5pm yet? My pjs await.

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