Jammies

One would have to be blind to not notice the assault of Christmas goods poised and waiting to be put into shopping carts, in-person or virtually. The Halloween candy was barely stocked on the shelves when the Ho-Ho-Ho paraphernalia made an appearance. And it is full-on marketing now. I suspect many folks will feel the need to do more purchasing than usual due to the difficulty of celebrating the usual traditions of Christmas this year. 

One tradition that has always puzzled me is the matching pajamas phenomenon. It is difficult to pin down the origin story of this tradition but suffice it to say, it did not start with my generation. We were lucky to have a decent hand-me-down pair of pajamas much less nightwear that looked like the rest of my family of nine. We also did not have a camera that could take the perfect selfie for a social media post. Our cameras were point and shoot with a flash cube, if you were lucky. We had to wait for the roll of film to fill up and then it was taken to our local drug store. We would wait a couple of weeks for the photos to be returned in packets with our name on it. The photos usually contained a series of duds. Photoshopping was not an option. Our photos were real, red eyes and all.

If you are a matching jammies family, I apologize for my bewilderment and covert judgment. Some families say they love the tradition and continue it in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way. There is no amount of tongue-in-cheeking that could get me to  a) buy matching pajamas and  b) take a photo for the world to see. The photos I see of this craze often portray a lovely little family, giggling and frolicking in adorable reindeer printed flannel nightwear. Everyone seems to love their newly received pajamas and they all look cozy and ready for hot cups of cocoa, so very hygge. 

My utilitarian approach to clothing is perhaps the reason for my hesitancy to embrace this craze. I could probably set up a matching section on an exam for my wardrobe. My t-shirts that may or may not have a few stains or bleach spots on them are for around the house, daytime wear. My tees that have minimal stainage can be used for trips to the grocery store. My tees that are less than two years old fall into the category of coffee-out-and-about-wear. I have my creepy, grass-stained clogs for mowing the lawn, always a good look with my everyday capris. My sandals with a tiny bit of bling are saved for summer weddings and funerals. My birkenstocks that pre-date current trendiness are for the garden. And my fleece jackets are classified according to how pilly the fabric is, fewest pills make the cut for the public scene. 

Clearly, matching jammies are not on my radar. Pajamas are for the end of the day, ready for bedtime. Matching clothing for me will have to happen, well, never. Cheers to those of you who enjoy the jammy camaraderie. Forgive me if I order a new turtleneck instead.