Converted to Pyjamas

 For most of my adult life I have unthinkingly dismissed pyjamas as a kind of sartorial analogue of Horlicks, most definitely not for me. Then, earlier this year, I had, for no evident reason, a sudden conversion and, at last, I saw the point of pyjamas. Not, I hasten to add, the cosy brushed-cotton jimjams of my boyhood with the white drawstring, but light pyjamas of thin cotton (or ideally, if I could afford it, silk). As with my less recent conversion to the cravat (see early Nigeness, passim), I seem to have discovered the virtues of pyjamas just as they are falling out of use. Standard sleepwear these days looks more like some kind of sportswear, with various combinations of T-shirts and what I believe are known as 'sweat pants', all pretty unattractive and surely uncomfortable to wear in a warm bed. Pyjamas, on the other hand, allow the skin to breathe and air to circulate around the body – and they do look rather good, they have a certain elegance about them. What's not to like? Apart, that is, from the odious habit of tucking the pyjama jacket into the trousers, but I'm sure my discerning readers would never do that. 
  The word 'pyjama' or, in the American form, 'pajama', is of Persian and Urdu origin, and originally meant only the trousers ('pae' leg, 'jamah' clothing), 'worn by both sexes among the Mohamedans', as the OED puts it, 'and adopted for night wear by Europeans'. 
  As it happens, I have a pair of pyjamas very similar to the ones in the above painting, 'The Conversation' by Matisse. This only confirms me in my new-found love of this stylish and versatile garment, perfect alike for sleeping in and lounging about in before addressing the vexed question of what to wear for the day. As Beerbohm puts it in his essay on Dandyism, 'So to clothe the body that its fineness be revealed and its meanness veiled has been the aesthetic aim of all costume.' Pyjamas, correctly worn, seem to me to achieve that aim rather well. And, if not, they can always be covered by a dressing gown.