An Incoherent Ramble About Pyjamas

If there is one  fashion trend that appeared in 2012, and that I actually like, it's got to be big pyjamas. I love big pyjamas. Proper 1940's, gentlemanly type pyjamas, with baggy trousers, and shirts with collars. I currently have one set, from River Island. It is dark blue, with mustard yellow polka dots. There's another set  on sale in Topshop, which is bright pink, and lovely. Some of the best, of course, are tartan, and are designed for doing nothing more than being worn while curled up in front of a fire, with soup and Radio 4. Then there are sets made of silk, or satin, for wearing around morning-after lovers, with floor length dressing gowns, in a contrasting colour. These look best while sprawled across a chaise longue, hair still in immaculate waves, while eating breakfast caviar off a cream cracker. 
Big pyjamas are possibly the most durable nightwear out there. They are suitable for summer, or winter, provided you have a suitable duvet, and you can answer the door to the post man without having to half duck behind a convenient wall, while peering out at a dodgy angle. They can be sexy, or cuddly, or just plain lovely. I have quite strong emotions about big pyjamas.
So quite often, when I'm having a day at home, or it's late and I'm tired, I'll wear my big pyjama trousers, and a shirt, and my red cardigan with the little embroidered anchor. For two reasons; one, it is a damn comfy outfit, and two, it makes me look a tiny bit like a 50's washerwoman from New York. I like this outfit. Which is why I'm questioning how socially acceptable it would be to wear it outside.  Not to a restaurant, or, I dunno, bowling or anything. And definitely not to any sort of large, social event. Possibly to meet David Cameron, but nor Nick Clegg. But on, say, an airoplane. I'm flying to Berlin at some point, and it really is very comfy. I quite like the idea of being on a plane, looking like a washerwoman, and if there was ever a place where it is socially acceptable to wear pyjamas, I'm pretty sure it's an airport. People don't care if you're dressed like a slob in an airport. You're about to be chucked in the air in a giant tin can. It's allowed. It also has the added benefit of nothing being made of metal, so you don't end up having to be shoved into a large tube, which stripes you naked using it's magic eye. Or an x-ray.
Whatever.

It's posts like this that make me realise that reading this blog has got to be a little like listening to a very drunk friend at a party, when they can't remember how to stop talking.