On Pajama Jeans

So, apparently, Pajama Jeans exist.

That's right. Pajama jeans. They look like jeans but feel like pajamas! How is that not everything you've ever dreamed of and more?



They've already received a ton of press. Recently, they were featured on AOL's Stylist blog, in an article titled: Pajama Jean Confessions: I Wore Them to Fashion Week. The writer tries to convince us that not only did she wear these to Fashion Week, but she received compliments on them. I suppose the idea isn't so outlandish - after all, having seen some of the things the fashion community puts out, it's hard to be truly shocked by what they like these days.

All the same, I don't get it. I'm ashamed to admit that, until I found a Glamour.com blog on the subject, I hadn't even thought of these as jeggings. I was so fooled into the marketing that I genuinely thought of Pajama Jeans as a unique product. But no, the Glamour blog is right: these are bootcut jeggings, marketed to moms and bloggers. The difference is solely in the marketing. While jeggings are what you wear if you're "fashion-forward" (supposedly), Pajama Jeans are what you wear when you're trying to break free of the fashion rat race.

Because, obviously, fashion is supposed to be uncomfortable. Jeans are an eternal struggle. I mean, come on. Haven't you read Cathy? Women and jeans are mortal enemies, like mega sharks and giant octopi. Remember, until Pajama Jeans, the only way to be fashionable was to dress like Lady Gaga.



Thank god for Pajama Jeans, right? Finally, we have a way to be fashionable that doesn't require wearing a top made of Muppets. And that seems downright practical when compared to the torture chamber known as jeans.

Oh, wait. Sorry, I confused jeans with skintight leather pants. My bad. Skintight leather pants are torturous, jeans are widely known for their comfort and ease of use.

When I saw Pajama Jeans for the first time, my initial thought was: "more comfortable jeans aren't necessary, nor are pajamas that can be worn in public." But these arguments just seem so absurdly obvious, it feels unnatural to have to state them. And yet, here I am, arguing it in the face of Pajama Jeans.

I love my jeans. As I write this, I'm sitting on my bed, wearing jeans. Until seeing Pajama Jeans, it never occurred to me that this might be unusual. Is it? Is it so peculiar, that I find jeans to be comfortable enough to wear both around the house and out in public? Am I to believe that, out of all these jeans, not a single pair will be comfortable?

I have spent hours musing upon Pajama Jeans, and the trend toward "clothes that look like jeans but aren't." I'm desperately trying to figure this fashion movement out. And there's only one question I keep coming back to:

When did jeans stop being good enough?

No, seriously. When did we decide that the blessing of denim needed to be improved upon? What's next - the wheel?

Whenever we, as a society, try to find a replacement for a staple, it ends up being bad for us. We replaced butter with margarine, and look where that got us (other than a lot of entertaining Fabio commercials). We've subbed out sugar in favor of high fructose corn syrup, and no good has come of that. When the world becomes overpopulated, we switch from real meats and produce to Soylent Green wafers, and I'll let Mr. Heston tell you how that one ended (spoiler alert!)

No good comes of eschewing a staple for an imitation, and no good will come of the jeggings/Pajama Jeans trend. Our children will look at pictures of us in ten years and laugh, the same way we laughed at our parents for their massive shoulder pads and permed hair. We, as a fashion community, will come to regret the day that we decided jeans just weren't good enough. But by then, I fear it may be too late.

So sport your jeggings, regardless of the fact that they're too tight on you and your shirt isn't long enough to cover your camel toe. Wear your Pajama Jeans to work, claiming no one can tell the difference even though they totally can.

But, as you pull up the elastic waist of your Pajama Jeans, know that you're destroying so much of what makes this country great: that no matter what you're doing, no matter where you're going, jeans always work. Not jeggings, not Pajama Jeans, not whatever freakish permutation emerges next. Jean - real denim jeans - will always be appropriate.

Pajama Jeans - $39.95

Pi Phi Why?

Several weeks ago, I had at least three people independently send me the Pi Phi Rush Week clothing manual. It was alternately the most flattering thing that's happened in a while, and the most horrifying - on the one hand, they apparently wanted to watch me mock the sisters.

On the other hand, I'm now apparently the go-to person for, "Hey, this is an ugly top." It's the sartorial equivalent of taking a swig of milk, saying "I think this is spoiled," then handing it to your roommate.

That's my totally gracious way of saying, thanks for reading and immediately thinking of the blog when you see something hideous. Please keep sending me stuff ... I will post them eventually, unless I can't figure out how to properly mock it.

Anyway, moving on. In the end, Ivy Gate posted four Pi Phi memos detailing what sorority members can and cannot wear to different functions during Rush Week.

Having read them all, they're pretty much what you would expect if someone a little controlling were running a house full of girls, and they were competing with other houses full of girls for the prettiest/smartest/best freshmen. Basically, "Look like everything a freshman girl would imagine a sorority sister to be, if her only exposure to sororities is movies or television."

In truth, I can't actually mock most of the list, because a lot of it makes sense for their world - don't wear hooker shoes to a daytime function, don't wear ripped pants. It also embodies why I would never, ever, ever be allowed into a sorority.

However, there is one thing that jumped out at me.

Mocked Denim Leggings

I'm so very, very confused.



On the one hand, leggings are not pants. However, these are leggings that look just like pants. And they seem to be fitting the model like skinny jeans rather than like leggings. But, they're leggings. Plus, skinny jeans already exist, so is there a need to make leggings that look like skinny jeans?

These are named "Mocked Denim Leggings," but for once, I'm not mocking. I'm just lost, and a little scared.

Forever 21 Mocked Denim Leggings - $19.90

The British Have a Word For It

Pop quiz time!

What's the difference between these:

And these?

The first pair are apparently denim print leggings. The second are, obviously, Jeggings.

Yes, Jeggings. It's not a typo. This is the official label given to them by the Topshop website. I can't tell you why one pair is just denim-patterned leggings and why the other is Jeggings, because the website itself offers no explanation either.

And that is what's so disturbing - that they don't offer an explanation of the term "Jeggings." The implication being, of course we should know the word. Who doesn't know what Jeggings are? And clearly, "hideous" isn't the definition, since both pairs are hideous. No, Jeggings and denim-patterned leggings apparently experienced some sort of convergent evolution, in which they look alike but cannot produce viable offspring. Which, thank god, because I'm pretty sure its offspring would destroy us all.

Topshop Grey Pull On Jeggings - $60
Topshop Denim Print Legging - $44

An Egregious Use of Spandex

I know that, in the six posts I've made so far, the bulk have been about Forever 21. I felt kind of bad about it, and worried that I might hurt the store's feelings.

Then I saw this:

Faux-denim leggings. With zippers on the bottoms. And no pockets. Because they are leggings. Faux-denim leggings.

Not convinced? Let's see the back:

When shopping online, I follow two simple rules:

1) Only buy it if the site offers free returns

2) If it looks bad on the mannequin, it's not going to be any better on you.

The mannequins are molded plastic designed to be as perfectly shaped as humanly possible. They are engineered to make the clothes look good.

So if the mannequin looks like it's rocking a giant, flat ass while wearing skintight mom jeans, odds are, you will not fare any better.

That's not going to stop any number of women from buying this 98% cotton, 2% spandex atrocity. I remember when people wore these the first time around, in the 90s, and it was as wrong then as it is now.

Why does Forever 21 hate the world, that they keep inflicting clothing like this on it? Why?

Pocketless Zipper Ankle Pant