Tuesdays are my favourite days.
The week's barely begun, and already I'm off - no lectures and the freedom to lounge in my apartment. I can sit behind my laptop with a constant stream of tea, pretending to be a journalist. Bliss.
Last Tuesday, I got a text off my friend. It was Enterprise Week, and he wanted me to come with him to some talk on how to enterprise, or whatever ... It was the middle of the day and (naturally) I was still in pyjamas. I was not leaving the house for that very reason.
"It's 1pm!" Barra was baffled on the other end of the phone. My other friends expressed similar sentiments.
My response: "What is it with you and the others and wearing pyjamas after conventional hours? Free your mind!"
"It's not acceptable to wear them while attending college", he said.
Isn't it?
I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm pretty much against wearing pyjamas in public unless it's a dire emergency (the walk of shame doesn't count). As I'm studying journalism, I've read endless books (cough) on the trade, and one the plus sides of being a self-employed journalist means working at home. Which means never having to leave the jammies. So really, I'm just preparing myself for what's ahead of me.
Pyjamas are wonderful things. They bring people together. There's something about onesies that just screams mutual understanding. Just the other night in college, we had a pyjama-themed open mic night. I'd never seen so many overgrown toddlers in a room in my whole life.
Clothes seem to be a big thing in college. I know one of my friends wears a suit to college ever day, as well as polishing his shoes. Me? I'm lucky if I'm dressed for my 9 o'clock starts.
I will admit that DCU has seen me one time too many times in my pyjamas. That technically wasn't my fault, however. I woke up one morning, horrifically hungover, to find a brutish cleaner at my door. It was bed bug spraying day, and, of course, I had forgotten all about it. Queue frantic tipping over of mattress, stripping of sheets and scrambling out of the room.
In my fluffy pink dressing gown (from Lidl, no less), I strutted over to my friend's apartment with more sass than Beyoncé until they were finished spraying.
It's a confidence thing more than any thing. I've been told on several occasions that the stuff I wear is completely outlandish.
"Put it this way", my best friend Val said to me, "If we hadn't been friends already, and I saw you in the street or at a party, I probably wouldn't be your friend. You dress weird."
I can't say she's wrong. I have a fetish for fur coats, and I've been known to make tops out of tights ...
Or maybe we're still conservative when it comes to clothes. Maybe in years to come, pyjamas will be less of a social phenomenon. Men will be legally obliged to wear suits at every opportunity. People won't laugh at me and call me Macklemore when I wear my fur coat in public and it swallows me whole ...
A girl can dream!
The week's barely begun, and already I'm off - no lectures and the freedom to lounge in my apartment. I can sit behind my laptop with a constant stream of tea, pretending to be a journalist. Bliss.
Last Tuesday, I got a text off my friend. It was Enterprise Week, and he wanted me to come with him to some talk on how to enterprise, or whatever ... It was the middle of the day and (naturally) I was still in pyjamas. I was not leaving the house for that very reason.
"It's 1pm!" Barra was baffled on the other end of the phone. My other friends expressed similar sentiments.
My response: "What is it with you and the others and wearing pyjamas after conventional hours? Free your mind!"
"It's not acceptable to wear them while attending college", he said.
Isn't it?
I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm pretty much against wearing pyjamas in public unless it's a dire emergency (the walk of shame doesn't count). As I'm studying journalism, I've read endless books (cough) on the trade, and one the plus sides of being a self-employed journalist means working at home. Which means never having to leave the jammies. So really, I'm just preparing myself for what's ahead of me.
Pyjamas are wonderful things. They bring people together. There's something about onesies that just screams mutual understanding. Just the other night in college, we had a pyjama-themed open mic night. I'd never seen so many overgrown toddlers in a room in my whole life.
Clothes seem to be a big thing in college. I know one of my friends wears a suit to college ever day, as well as polishing his shoes. Me? I'm lucky if I'm dressed for my 9 o'clock starts.
I will admit that DCU has seen me one time too many times in my pyjamas. That technically wasn't my fault, however. I woke up one morning, horrifically hungover, to find a brutish cleaner at my door. It was bed bug spraying day, and, of course, I had forgotten all about it. Queue frantic tipping over of mattress, stripping of sheets and scrambling out of the room.
In my fluffy pink dressing gown (from Lidl, no less), I strutted over to my friend's apartment with more sass than Beyoncé until they were finished spraying.
It's a confidence thing more than any thing. I've been told on several occasions that the stuff I wear is completely outlandish.
"Put it this way", my best friend Val said to me, "If we hadn't been friends already, and I saw you in the street or at a party, I probably wouldn't be your friend. You dress weird."
I can't say she's wrong. I have a fetish for fur coats, and I've been known to make tops out of tights ...
Or maybe we're still conservative when it comes to clothes. Maybe in years to come, pyjamas will be less of a social phenomenon. Men will be legally obliged to wear suits at every opportunity. People won't laugh at me and call me Macklemore when I wear my fur coat in public and it swallows me whole ...
A girl can dream!
