Shopping in PyjamasHaving been a blogger for almost ten years you’d think that I would have pretty much exhausted my vocabulary and repeated most of the words in it, but you’d be wrong.

Take the that borrowed Persian word ‘pyjamas’ (or ‘pajamas’  if you speak American). I expected it to have appeared on these pages several times, but I’ve only had cause to use it once, and then in passing reference to the Mr Ed was a zebra myth.

The reason I know this is because I had to use my search box to find out if I’d written about the shopping in pyjamas hoo-ha in 2010 and it seems that I didn’t.

Women of a certain standing in society had taken to wandering the aisles of Tesco in their night attire because they couldn’t be bothered to get dressed in the morning. And along with the majority of the population I was meant to be vicariously outraged by this drop in standards reported in the media because I’d never seen it in the flesh, so to speak.

But apart from that brief flurry of appalled newsprint, it hasn’t been an issue to trouble the leader writers, so I assumed it was either a fad that had passed or something that has become accepted as totally reasonable behaviour. I was wrong on both counts.

I usually give my daughter a lift home from work in the evening and park outside while I wait facing a Bargain Booze shop. To give you some idea of its clientele, it’s one of those places where you have to ring a bell to be allowed in.

All human life is there, as the News of the World used to say, and you do see some sights in its speakeasy comings and goings, women in pyjamas being one of them.

Two such emerged from its doors the other night when it was freezing cold complete with pink dressing gowns and fluffy slippers as they carried their clinking carrier bags home.

Nothing new there, but what happened next did surprise me when a car pulled up behind me and a lad got out wearing bright orange pyjama bottoms. I assume he had the top as well, but this was hidden beneath his coat, but they were definitely pyjamas with some sort of pattern in dark blue that I couldn’t make out.

johnny fingersThe question is why? The only people I can think of with an excuse for wearing pyjamas in public are Arthur Dent in H2G2, the Darling children (and then only in Never Never Land) and that bloke who played keyboards for the Boomtown Rats.

My theory is that we’ve become so used to online shopping from the comfort of home that it now seems normal to take our behind closed doors attire on to the high street. It has to stop!

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

6 comments… Add yours
  • Trevor Rowley 1st April 2013

    Perhaps you could advise me, Mr P. I’ve just thrown my ‘jamas in the wash but could do with getting down to the local off door licence for a couple of brown ales. Should I go as I am or wait until the cover of darkness?

  • pianokitty 1st April 2013

    Ha! I has a theory. In China, going out in one’s jim-jams has long been a sign of high social status – signifying that you have so much money and spare time that you don’t have to wear work clothes. Perhaps, through the magic of global internet communication, this has filtered through to the UK and the pyjama-clad shoppers here are not so much sloppy as upwardly-mobile?

  • Roger Green 1st April 2013

    Yes, I’ve seen more PJs as outerwear in Albany. Oddly disturbing, even on the cute college co-eds.

  • rhymeswithplague 1st April 2013

    I have a theory about your shocking claim regarding Mr. Ed, which I clicked on and thoroughly researched, but a look at today’s calendar date will help.

    • Mr Parrot 1st April 2013

      I wasn’t claiming that Mr Ed was a zebra, quite the reverse in fact!

  • Jennyta 1st April 2013

    One afternoon last year, Keith and I drove into town to visit Maplins. We had just got out of our car when another drew up nearby and out got a 20 something female, attired in pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, who then strolled into the nearby Poundland (it had to be, didn’t it!) with the female driver of the car, who looked to be her mother.


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