I write in what my friend at Cite Something! calls day jammies. There are subtle but important differences between day jammies and night jammies, namely the fact that you wear day jammies during the day. Duh.
During this cold Midwestern winter, this has meant a pair of thick socks, flannel pants, an old t-shirt and a sweatshirt. Or as I like to call it, standard issue uniform. Day jammies have ruined me for everyday life. I’m at the point where I reach for yoga pants if I need to go to anything remotely formal. The other day I had to have my picture taken for a publication at work – I wore ripped jeans. (Although that was more because I was channeling my inner librarian rocker chick.)
Why day jammies? Because I write better if I’m comfortable and I’m most comfortable in day jammies. So I faced quite a conundrum at my recent writing retreat, which was attended by a dozen of my academic colleagues. I wore jeans the first day, which was ok but not great. Yoga pants were the go-to compromise on day two. Things got interesting the evening of day one.
Imagine: the lounge of a retreat center, complete with a tiny TV (but with cable!) and a wall of board games and puzzles with missing pieces.
Do I bow to convention and wear jeans OR do I walk bravely into the fray, wearing my day jammies?
Day jammies for the win. I even got a few compliments!
Here are my secrets for wearing day jammies in front of your colleagues:
1. Get tenure.
2. Trap your colleagues in a sequestered location, such as a snowy retreat center.
3. Day jammies fashion show.
At this point, I’d like to think I’d transition into a lovely reflection on bravery and how wearing day jammies in front of colleagues taught me about risk and self-identity, but really I just wanted to write about jammies. Now if I can somehow wear my jammies to a cemetery, the blog will have come full circle.