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| They keep making new patterns! It's not my fault! |
It all started innocently enough. I was searching online for leopard print pajamas (because what else would I be doing on a Friday night?), and stumbled upon Victoria's Secret satin pajama collection. With the click of a button, I ordered myself a pair, and hoped for the best. At $59.99, these weren't by any means cheap, but I had just started dating my husband at the time and I was trying to achieve the "effortlessly chic"look of a 1950's Hollywood starlet (read: someone who doesn't wear wine-stained Hello Kitty shirts with holes in them) when sleeping over his pad.
A few days later a white UPS padded plastic envelope arrived (signature VS packaging), and my Elizabeth Taylor fantasy became a reality. That evening, I lounged in my cozy, yet glamorous pajamas, which were loose enough to allow my muffin top to breathe comfortably, yet had a feminine cut so that I still felt like a sex kitten on wheels.
The next week, I decided to get another pair, after the leopard print set got a couple more wears then I intended (luckily they wash nicely, too!) So I ordered the pink and white striped ones. After those arrived, I figured it really couldn't hurt to get just one more pair, so that I could at least have a weekly rotation.
Fast forward to present day, and I have now developed a serious aversion to clothing. In fact, there have been weekends where I unapologetically donned my luxurious sleepwear for a full 48 hours. There is just something so fun about prancing around your apartment, wine glass in hand, in silky matching PJ sets. Sure, I may be on in the heart of Brooklyn, but it makes me feel like I'm in a chic apartment in Paris being supported by a rich man who pays me to just look pretty all day.
So why the post? I just had to publicly confess that I have spent an ungodly amount of my hard-earned dollars on fucking PAJAMAS and I really think it's a problem. But I feel good, and that's what matters, right? So what's your guilty pleasure? What do you indulge in that makes you channel your inner Marilyn?
Fast forward to present day, and I have now developed a serious aversion to clothing. In fact, there have been weekends where I unapologetically donned my luxurious sleepwear for a full 48 hours. There is just something so fun about prancing around your apartment, wine glass in hand, in silky matching PJ sets. Sure, I may be on in the heart of Brooklyn, but it makes me feel like I'm in a chic apartment in Paris being supported by a rich man who pays me to just look pretty all day.
So why the post? I just had to publicly confess that I have spent an ungodly amount of my hard-earned dollars on fucking PAJAMAS and I really think it's a problem. But I feel good, and that's what matters, right? So what's your guilty pleasure? What do you indulge in that makes you channel your inner Marilyn?
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