The other day, fellow blogger and copywriter Philip posted this to his Facebook account:
I nearly peed from laughing and from sheer joy. Because “F*ck it, I give up” very often becomes my fashion motto roughly halfway through a trip. I start out hopeful. Delusional even. I bring three-inch heels and convince myself that I will wear them all over <insert foreign city here>. A few hours later, I have given up almost entirely on looking presentable, and find myself licking the stain on my sweater to determine what it was (jam, in case you were wondering).
This happens again and again.
And now there are pajama jeans. For those who want the ill-fitting, droopy-ass look of pajamas, with the glamour of denim!
I can’t get these, right? Because then I might actually wear them, and that would be very, very wrong. Hygienically, the idea of sleeping in something, wearing it out and about, and then sleeping in it, again, is kind of horrifying.
And yet, isn’t that what happens with any item of clothing I wear on flights?
Besides, if I’m going to give up on looking fashionable and not care at all what I look like on a trip, shouldn’t I at least be comfortable?
Honestly, I think these are a revelation. They’re the sort of thing that could only exist in the great, great nation that is America. We’re the home of chocolate-covered bacon, Cop Rock, and now sleepwear pretending to be pants.
The last time I was this impressed with a piece of clothing disguised as yet another piece of clothing was when those t-shirts that look like tuxedos first came out. Remember?
Maybe I’ll pair one with my jean-jamas.