My Bathrobe

The cold snap we had last week was a good excuse to stay in my bathrobe.  It’s just so darn cuddly and warm, and the thought of having to get dressed never seemed like a good one.  I’ll use any excuse I can find, as I don’t own any clothes that are as comfortable as my full length, long sleeved, polar fleece, snap-up bathrobe.   There’s freedom in that thing.

I’ve worn far too many items of clothing that drain all my brainpower.  If there’s a pinch somewhere, or the waist isn’t sitting just right, or the tag makes my back itch, it’s all I can think about and my brain gets totally focused on that one little irritant and I lose track of all other thoughts.  I’m so much more creative when my clothes don’t cause a distraction.  I now understand why my grandma wore a moo-moo around all day, as it just makes sense.  To heck with fashion or making a statement, we just want comfort.

I’m not sure men have the same problem with clothes that we women do.  Men’s clothes are honestly sized so they just walk in, buy their clothes down to the half-inch neck size and walk out.  They don’t even need to try things on.  Women’s clothes, on the other hand, are never measured the same, nor cut the same, nor fit the same.  It’s a necessity to try on clothes as the sizing labels are never believable.  Some clothing manufacturers found they sold more clothes by marking their size 16 as 14 so women felt better about wearing a smaller size.  Are we really that vain?

I love that we live in the Northwest where what we wear isn’t a major concern.  I have to say though, when I’m out in public and see people wearing pajama bottoms, I think we’ve gone a little too far, but at least we aren’t as uptight as those in other parts of America. 

I was talking to a young woman that spent her first year of college in Chicago but dropped out because she couldn’t stand the “culture” there. “They were just so uptight about everything,” she said, “especially clothes.”  The few times she wore sweat pants to class, people gave her a rather puzzled look then with a nervous smile said things like, “Good for you,” as if she were bucking some seriously ingrained clothing norms.

I’ve long ago given up any sense of style or desire to be a fashionista in the wardrobe department.  All I care about is being comfortable, even if it means not wearing a bra because the constant itch from the straps drive me nuts.  I recently got rid of some pants that just never felt right and seemed to put me in a bad mood when I wore them.  They gave a whole new meaning to the phrase “crabby pants.”  

I wonder how many disputes might be solved in this world if people just showed up in their bathrobes.