Pajamas and the end of an era

Beginning in college, I became something of a pajama connoisseur. I think this was because I needed to have something presentable in which to lounge about the dorm. (Funny how I defined "presentable" back then.) So I happily collected many a novelty pajama pant over the years. That's right, just the pants -- for me, PJs are generally flannel pants paired with a t-shirt and a sweatshirt if needed.

During the course of approximately the last 10 years, I've collected flannel pants with the following patterns: plaid (at least 2 different kinds), cows, clouds, penguins and leaves. In addition, I have owned several PJ sets, which I would wear when I had the urge to match. One of the sets was "silky" (polyester) and gold and had a cheetah-print trim. Kjerste also owned this same set of PJs (we shop at the same stores, namely, Target) and we would wear them at the same time while we drank cheap alcohol together. Which is often what we would do: While the other college girls might have been out at a party, we were always more the "let's put on the PJs and have a drink" types. The cheetah-print ones just happened to be our "dressy" pajamas.

At one point in college, I may have actually owned all these different pajama options at the same time. Which is good, because I would wear them all sorts of places nobody should really be wearing pajamas, such as the grocery store, the dining hall, and class. But given that I was a college student at Santa Cruz, one of the most casual places on earth, I suppose it didn't really matter what I was wearing as long as I was clothed. At least, this is what I told myself.

After several moves, however, my pajama collection dwindled by necessity. Who wants to haul around 20 pairs of flannel pants? And I haven't bought any additional pants since shortly after college -- I clearly have not needed them. After the move from California, the only flannel pants I had left were the ones with the leaves, the cows, and the penguins, which died last year due to a large hole.

Yesterday, something very, very bad happened. I went to put on my leaf pants and the 7-year- old drawstring broke. And there is no way to fix it. I tried. I even was wondering if there might be a way to substitute a shoe lace, but there wasn't. I'm also not sure if the desire to try to hold up my pants with a shoe lace was industrious or just sad. In spite of my incredible loss, I remained hopeful that my cow pants, which looked comfortingly at me from my drawer, might save the day. But when I went to put them on, the 10-year-old elastic in the waistband let out a great snap and gave way. The final moo.

Well, not entirely, as it turns out. You see, I have no other pajama pants to wear. So the cows are currently being held up by an enormous pleat I created in the front with a large safety pin. Please do not call the fashion police. I know that this is only a temporary resuscitation and not an episode of Project Runway. I will need to find my way to a store and buy some decent night wear.

This is all very sad. After all, I have a history of growing attached to textiles. As a child, I had a "favorite blankie" that I chewed on. The only way my mom could wean my off of it was by clipping it into smaller and smaller bits. This was made easier by the fact that I was chewing holes through it.

This truly is the end of a pajama-wearing era. In honor of this, I encourage all my reader(s) to wear their pajamas while having a drink. Do it for the cows.