Pajamas and Staying Warm Through Hurricane Sandy

Mom and I bought matching puffin pajama pants on a trip to Maine one summer.

Holing up in my apartment to ride out Hurricane Sandy in Brooklyn, wearing a hoodie and a pair of puffin-print pajama bottoms I bought in Maine, I found myself thinking about the things we wear when we want to cozy up.

I went through a phase a few years ago when I was really into Nick & Nora for Target flannel pajamas. I had pink ones with coffee cups and a pair with elephants wearing striped scarves and hats (yeah, I don’t know either). I had ones with snow globes, and ones with penguins. I thought of the Beverly Cleary story I’d loved as a child, in which Ramona wants to hold onto that tucked-into-bed feeling all day, so she wears her flannel pajamas to school under her clothes; with all those layers on, hilarity ensues. Hunting around to write this post, I found pajamas with pictures of wine bottles, owls, cupcakes, and high-heeled shoes. And, of course, more than plenty with pictures of cats in all shapes and sizes.

Pajamas for people who love shoes, by the brand PJ Salvage. Are there pajamas for people who love pajamas? That would be quite meta.

Why do grown women want to wear cute printed pajamas? Do we, like Ramona the Pest, want to hang on to a little piece of childhood and be transported back to a simpler time?

What do you wear when you want to feel secure, when you’re settling in to spend an entire day inside while the world howls—literally—outside your window? Sweats? Yoga pants? Your college sweatshirt? Kitty-cat pajamas? Let me know.

It seems especially important to feel—and stay—safe and warm this week. New York and New Jersey are reporting multiple storm-related deaths. As I write this there is a building on fire in Queens;  NYU’s hospital is being evacuated; hundreds of thousands of customers are without power.  Wear whatever you’d like, as long as you stay safe.

For Everything There is a Season

I’m pretty sure I don’t need Al Gore to tell me that global climate change is actually happening. All I have to do is look in my closet, where what I have always considered the natural order of things has been turned on its head.

We all read the stories, right? An unusually warm winter, almost no snowfall in the east. Retailers dumping winter merchandise at unheard-of discounts. Mom was a beneficiary, scoring a three-quarter length North Face coat at almost 30 percent off, though she only got to wear it once or twice this season.

But when temps reached into the 70s in March, the idea of wearing even my most-favorite sweaters made my skin crawl, so reluctantly, I reached into my closet and opened the seals on my space-saver bags. I felt a pang of regret as I watched the plastic puff up again with air, and I began digging out the blouses and t-shirts I usually retrieve sometime in May.

Continue reading