Pajama theory

When I’m not out and about at my favorite cafe, Leonidas, I can be found at home writing in my pajamas. I don’t get the same opportunity to people-watch, but it is nice not to have my hair smell of caramelized butter and slightly burned crepes. And most importantly, I don’t have to wear real pants.

My favorite time to write is Saturday morning, when the birds are just sounding off and most people are still sleeping.

I’m a fair-weather morning person. That is, I’m only a morning person when the morning is mine. During the work week, Monday through Friday, I fight for every millisecond of sleep, avoiding eye contact with my phone until the last possible moment. I don’t want to see the time. I don’t want to know how little time I have left to myself, with my bed and my sheets.

And that’s just it, on days when I don’t have to work (my 9-5) I wake up early, excited for the day ahead. I throw the coves back, shuffle into a pair of slippers, sashay to the front of the house and open all the curtains. In the summer, I open the windows too—careful to tie my robe tight around my curves, lest anyone get a peep show.

I’m a robe person. There are several spilling out of my closet. Each reserved for certain occasions or moods. For instance, my mini robe is a treasured favorite of French blue satin. In a moment of temporary insanity, I splurged on it and a matching corset for a fraternity pajama party on campus. Absolute nonsense. But I felt fucking fabulous.

Then there’s Old Faithful- a plush dream that is as cozy as cumulus clouds look from an airplane window. My mother gifted me the Pottery Barn classic over a decade ago and it remains in pristine condition, save for the blue ink stain on the back. When I’m feeling awful or preparing for back to back writing sprints, I pull on that robe and the world disappears.

It’s just me, in my robe, and the page. Or in many cases- me with cramps, in the robe, and the page.

As winter rattles on outside, I take pleasure in my cozy routine. A hot shower after work is typically followed by the careful selection of either robe or pajamas. I massage goo-gobs of body butter and vaseline into my skin (because, hello, Chicago winter) and slip on my selection. Lastly, I dab on a favorite perfume before tucking into bed with my MacBook and voice recorder.

Now, I’m sure preferences for nighttime hardware vary, but right now my laptop is “Bae” and he gets the whole left side of the bed.

On weekends, I wear matching pajama sets. There’s something indulgently formal about the buttoning of a pajama shirt and tying off the bow on the matching pants. I fix myself some Darjeeling tea and settle in at the table, trying to get a few hundred words down before the rest of the world wakes up.

I get incredible satisfaction from the mundane - the small, repetitive acts of self care or setting out a cup and saucer for myself. Taking the same steps through my little home each Saturday morning as I slowly morph back into my true self. “Transformation Leader Christina Bennett” gets left in my workbag hanging near the front door.

Over everything, what I’m seeking most in this life is Peace. And it isn’t lost on me that having a safe space to recover and reflect is a blessing. Do I need a drawer full of pajamas? No. But this is my way of celebrating the space I’ve carved out for myself and romancing my brain out of work mode.

Let’s be real, most of us sit at work counting down to the moment we can kick our pants off in the front hallway, scrub off the day, and slip into something without a damn zipper. Comfort is conducive to creativity. And the feel of a silk gown, or robe gliding around my ankles is exactly the drama I need to bounce back from a series of very long days. I’ve seen clips of the incredible Diahann Carroll on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson where she speaks about the power of a little fantasy:

“Fantasy is nice and it’s helped us to get through reality. Reality can sometimes be pretty heavy and hit you in the nose. I like a little false eyelashes and (uh) a little titillation, I think it makes life more… you know what I mean?”

Of course Johnny Carson is sitting there mesmerized, but Ms. Caroll’s larger point is that the niceties (however small) can help get you through. Especially when the world is telling you you’re not deserving of them. As an activist and one of the first Black women to star in leading roles on television, I imagine Ms. Caroll had some way to reclaim her energy and get ready to face another day in racist-ass Hollywood.

It may seem like a simple thing, but pajamas are my way of doing just that—reclaiming my space, my time, and my energy. It’s about creating a moment of luxury, however small, that helps me reset and transition into my own rhythm.

Because not all PJs are created equal, here are some of my top picks for looking and feeling cozy while you write, reflect, or escape into that steamy novel you’ve been saving.