Ah, PJs, jimjams, jammies - how we’ve missed you. And no, I’m not talking about you, old Nike shorts and tattered t-shirt. I’m referring to the golden age of pyjamas, the kind that elevate your nighttime routine from slobby teen to character in an Oscar Wilde novel, draped gracefully on a chaise longue while eating grapes straight from the stalk, musing for your beloved while Beethoven’s Fifth and the scent of roses drifts in from the great hall. Or something like that... What I’m trying to say is, stylish PJs are back and I couldn’t be happier. If Bridgerton’s arrival on Netflix can prompt a flurry of Christmastime searches for puffy frocks and over the top headgear, why can’t we channel this regal energy come bedtime. As we are now realising the importance of life within our own four walls, surely the wisest investment is in the domestic, and more specifically the somniferous, sphere. Given the multitude of articles criticising the wearing of pyjamas while working from home, citing a boost in productivity when there is a separation between work and relaxation, surely this works both ways. The logical extension of the need to get dressed in order to be productive during the day, would be that we must don sleep attire entirely distinct from our daytime apparel in order to be productive in sleep. So, to truly create this supposed boundary between waking and sleeping hours, we cannot simply wear slouchy daytime apparel to sleep, but rather must wear distinct nighttime attire.

“We must don sleep attire entirely distinct from our daytime apparel in order to be productive in sleep.”

This is not to say that silk button down pyjamas are the key to life (unless you ask Winston Churchill) but rather that doing seemingly banal things with a purpose is motivational - even when sleeping, you feel productive. Similarly, when you move from writing your thoughts and ideas in the notes app to a personalised, leather-bound note pad, you feel that you are taking the first step to making it real. Rather than being like everyone else, jotting down their ideas just to lose them between a grocery list and a hurriedly written sonnet, you become that uber-cool French girl, probably called Veronique, with one hand on a quill writing her musings on the human condition in impeccable yet somehow boho-chic cursive, as her other hand twiddles the fibres of her Panama hat. Giving intention to the action makes it real. 

And just like that (excuse my Carrie Bradshaw-ism), as we embrace a sartorial slumber, sleep moves from the passive to the active and, when the same principle is applied to our lives, our ideas take a step towards reality.