The Pajama Game

Morning Folks! I felt like writing this morning for the first time in a long time. I’m not sure what caused the 10+ year hiatus but I’m tired of trying to figure that out. So today, I am writing a post. As some may recall, I write the way my mind works and often go off on tangents. (Squirrel!!) So be forewarned.

(Photo from the movie UP)00

It’s the strangest thing that inspired me to write a post today, which always seems to be the case. But when I got up this morning, one hour earlier thanks to Daylight Savings time, it was only 46° here in Naples, FL. This is supposed to be a tropical paradise, people!

 (By the way if you want to know how I was able to add the degree symbol: on your iPad, just hold the zero key.) 

Anyway, this unwelcome frigid temperature and my totally inadequate pjs inspired me to wonder if mine was the only family who called those cozy knit pajamas of the 1950s and 60s, with the knit cuffs on the sleeves and pant legs and collar, “Ski Pajamas”. I’ve never heard the reference as an adult that I can remember and I’m thinking maybe we called them that because the pair we wore had a ski themed print on them?  Although, I don’t remember that being the case. I remember solid colors and my brother and I having matching pairs. 

To explain my lack of confidence in using the term “ski pajamas”,  my mother had a way of inventing names for things that in later years we’ve found were not universally known by that name. (Ones private parts come to mind, but we won’t discuss that.)  So I wasn’t sure if I’d embarrass myself at cards next Friday talking about “ski pajamas” as I had done one day in the past talking about “cow cousins”. (Another story.) But I have noticed recently that sweat pants seem to be fashioned like the ski pajamas of yesteryear instead of straight legged sweats I have in my dresser. Have you noticed this? 

When I think about my mother and pajamas, I remember one spring she’d decided to sew matching pairs of summer shorty pajamas for my brother and me. I guess I was about 4 and he was 5.  The fabric she’d chosen was a seersucker. It was probably the first time I’d heard that word. Seersucker. It’s kind of Onomatopoeic, don’t you think? This fabric had a pattern of little green and brown tools on a white background. Hammers, saws and screw drivers. Oddly enough, despite the masculine theme, I was looking forward to those pjs.  And brother Chuck was really excited about them, too. My mother pinned and cut out the pattern almost as soon as she got the fabric home. I remember she showed me a bobbin and how the sewing machine pedal worked. She demonstrated pinking shears and I loved using them on scraps of fabric. Anticipation for those pjs grew. 

Although we checked often, almost daily, the pieces she’d cut out didn’t seem to be turning into pajamas at all. And they remained unchanged through the summer and into the fall. Winter came and by spring she had abandoned the smaller pair and decided to just work on the larger pair, leaving my brother to realize he’d never have the chance to wear them. There was still some hope for me that one day I’d be wearing those long anticipated pjs. But I was never able to wear those seersucker, shorty, tool covered pjs. I guess my mother’s life and growing family got in the way. The sewing machine was tucked away and the fabric disappeared, never to be seen again. One of life’s great disappointments. 

Anyway, this morning I Googled Ski Pajamas from the 1950s and found out that there actually were things called  “Ski Pajamas” and it wasn’t just some name my mother made up for our favorite winter pjs. I found a very cool blog called Vintage Dancer.com. In a January 2021 post there I actually found pix of Ski Pajamas.

Just for fun take a look at this blog. It might bring back some memories of what our grandmothers, or we, used to look like at bedtime. Www.vintagedancer.com/1950s/1950s-sleepwear-loungewear-history

Yes, today on this chilly morning, wind whistling through the cat flap on the lanai, I long for a pair of those matching cozy and warm ski pajamas my brother and I used to wear. But I don’t have any. So sweat pants will have to do. And on warmer days I no longer mourn having never had those tool covered seersucker shorties, because Life has given me the tools to cope with great disappointment like that. Now,  dubbed the Jammy Grammy I’ve spent the last 11 years supplying my grandkids with lots of pajamas. None covered with tools but lots that I would call ski pajamas! 

Have a fabulous day! I’m going to!