There was a time when I would have laughed in your face at the mention of sensible nightwear. Pahh, what would I want that for, Winceyette, the preserve of virgin nuns in cold stonewalled, monasteries. Though I do have some chic numbers in reserve for unscheduled luxurious hotel stays they just aren’t cut out for children’s midnight calls, the drudgery of first down in the morning clearing up cat sick and the mad dash to get the recycling out before the bin men arrive. I must also admit to feeling a little guilty not being an attractive eyeful over breakfast in my nightwear when friends are staying.
Reluctantly, I took to hunting for nightwear and as ever when I turned over the pricetag it revealed yet again I had gone for the most expensive. A quick analysis of a glamorous friend over breakfast and I realized she didn’t look like she had been in bed in those clothes. So nightwear could be practical and look like something you’d want to be seen outside the boudoir in. It dawned on me, avoid a nightmare price tag buying just a meter of the luscious fabric I want and make myself a pyjama top, then use less pricey fabric for the bottoms.
Perverse as ever I had to adapt the pattern for this pyjama top, adding a line of mother of pearl buttons down the front. I am happy, no more embarrassing moments of looking like the mad lady who has escaped from the attic when the postman knocks.