When I was contacted by a PR firm for the makers of PajamaJeans® to do a review in exchange for a free pair of their product, I didn’t hesitate. But I decided to have some fun with the review. Why not? So many reviews are dry and impersonal. Not my style. So here’s my wide-ranging product review for your possible amusement.
Okay, by now most of you have seen the infomercials for PajamaJeans®. And maybe, like me, you’ve been curious what they’re like. Are they more like PJ’s, or more like jeans? I was quite curious, for when you work from home, as I do, trying to find comfy clothing that goes from bed to computer to grocery store can be challenging.
Every day turns into casual Friday. But just how casual? For one doesn’t want to offend the community standards.
Admittedly, in my particular community, those standards can be rather relaxed. I’ve seen morning shoppers at my neighborhood Piggly Wiggly in pursuit of their cheese biscuits wearing coats with the hems of their nighties peeking under, their feet covered with fuzzy slippers. So far, I’ve not yet made my casual Friday THAT casual — at least outside the privacy of home. Inside’s a different can of beans. If you come to the door while I’m in hot pursuit of a deadline, you’d best be prepared for…well, never mind, I’m sure you’ve been there. You don’t need the juicy details. Let’s just say at times home is where the slob is. I worry about this.
Dressing for success has flown way out the window since I traded in an advertising career in city offices for my home office and the freelance writing life in my tiny village. The right outfit for word-working at home had proved elusive. Too often, sweats are my work clothes. Not good. Not flattering. Was coat over nightie to be my next step into the clothing hall of shame?
The query
Maybe that’s why when an e-mail from a public relations firm arrived in my in-box, I read it with interest. The email told me details about the same PajamaJeans I’d seen on TV. The PR firm offered to send me a pair of my own for a test-drive. As you can imagine, I leaped at the opportunity. I mean, who wouldn’t? Free clothes? Clothes fresh from an infomercial on my TV?
“Well, sure, definitely,” I replied, “send away, size 10, please.”
A package arrives
Time passes, as it does, but sooner, rather than later, came a tidy package in my mailbox. I squeezed the envelope; it was soft — like Charmin. I wondered: “what could this be? Another of my forgotten internet purchases? Have I been sleep-shopping again? But looking at the return address, I knew the truth: it’s my PajamaJeans! What fun. New clothes without a charge appearing on my credit card statement. Joy is mine.
Careful not to snip the garment inside with my wayward scissors, I cautiously open the envelope to reveal my PajamaJeans. Hmm. Not bad, I think. Soft material kind of like sweatpants, but with more body, more personality. The stitching on the dark navy fabric and the sassy brass rivets on the pockets smartly mimic denim jeans. I look at the label. Size medium. 95% cotton, 5% Spandex. I like cotton, it breathes. I run my hand over the fabric, it’s a medium weight — lighter than sweats, softer than denim.
My new Pajama Jeans feel cozy. Kind of like a Bichon Frise puppy after it’s newly shorn.
I’m eager to try them on. Time for a test run, the moment of truth, where the rubber meets the road — or the cotton and Spandex meet flesh. I slip them on — or try to. There’s no slipping. A bit of a struggle ensues as they are sans zipper, instead closed with a bright pink drawstring. But I ease them up over my hips, my derriere, doing the wiggle we women know so well when donning snug clothes…and wow! They fit like a glove. Snug, but not binding as regular form-fitting jeans too often are. I like them. I go to the mirror. While they embrace my curves, they also contain and shape them — for this I am thankful — what woman wouldn’t be? I, for one, want flattering clothes, not clothes that make me look larger. The fit must be due to the 5% Spandex, I’m thinking. My caboose hasn’t morphed into an entire freight train. Thank you, Spandex, for the containment, the lift.
Enough private time with my PajamaJeans — let’s debut them in public. I trot over to Piggly Wiggly, where often friends and neighbors are found. It is here I’ll discover if anyone stares or falls over laughing to see me wearing an infomercial. I do run into several folks I know, but no one comments, no one stares, it’s business as usual. So far so good.
But now for their Ultimate Test. My next public foray in my PajamaJeans takes me to a rite of Spring when Pam inaugurates her first screened porch event by inviting me and our mutual friend Christy over for a meal on the aforementioned porch. Since Pam is a sublime chef — straight from the pages of Bon Appétit, only better, I know I’m going to feast, I want to make sure I’m wearing something…expandable.
“This,” I think, “is a job for PajamaJeans.”
So I wear them
Will they still be comfortable after a three- or four-course lunch and some bubbly? Will the discerning eyes of Pam and Christy catch me out in my PajamaJeans and tease me unmercifully? This is the supreme test, the pinnacle Olympian moment for PajamaJeans. They and I are going for the gold.
Okay, now I’m porch-sitting in my PajamaJeans. I’ve polished off the appetizer of petite sauteed fresh herb and squash patties with the Greek tzatziki dipping sauce, the buttery grilled eggplant over the baby mixed greens has gone down my happy gullet, my grilled shrimp with young asparagus and black rice sparked with a tangy remoulade sauce that had my mouth dancing have all disappeared. We’ve liberated the contents from several bottles of bubbly, and now we’re dipping the first ruby strawberries of the season into a dark lake of warm bitter-sweet chocolate.
I sigh. I’m full — replete with the happiness of good sistership, great food, and free-ranging belly laughs. Through it all my PajamaJeans have remained my pal — they do not bind, cut or chafe in the least. They continue to gently hug my now somewhat curvier curves. We’re laughing our heads off, deadlines forgotten, while we plan our dream trip to Italy.
It is then that I tip my hand
I stand up and say, “So, women, what do you think? I’m wearing PajamaJeans!!” I expect their jaws to drop and the jokes to begin, but no! They’re remarkably calm and collected. They say, “Never would have guessed…they look just like a pair of well-fitting stretch jeans.” My friends reach out to touch the fabric; they make complimentary murmurs of appreciation for its softness.
Pam suggests, “Maybe they should make them out of colors other than navy.” Christy, adds, “I’d buy them; they’re a good fit.”
So, there you have it
The final test drive of the Pajama Jeans has found us in the Winners Circle. Not only did the PajamaJeans pass muster at Piggly Wiggly — they passed the more rigorous muster of Christy and Pam.
Me? I adore my PajamaJeans. I could sleep in them — but won’t. I want to keep them for dress-up. For more lunches with my friends. More imaginary trips to Italy.
My only suggestion? Ditch the bright pink drawstring or make it navy or black. Unless you tuck the tie carefully into the waistband of the jeans, its pinkness can reveal the fact that you’re wearing PajamaJeans. Not that I’m at all embarrassed to be wearing them, but let’s keep this our little secret, just between you and me.
Deal?
Thanks for reading!