Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Monday, October 15, 2012

Ladies, Don Your Jammies

Studying for final exams is hard work.

Time consuming.
Often lasting into the wee hours of the morning.
And even, at times, throughout the night.
It was exam time.
Debbie and I were cramming, comfortably dressed in warm pyjamas.
The clock struck three AM and there was no end in sight.
Time for a pick-me-up.
Food was indicated.
Preferably hot food prepared by someone else.
Someplace else.
Now, I should mention, here, that I always wore a long nightgown. High at the neck, full sleeved. Lovingly made by my mother of dark red flannel.
Disclosing nothing.
Debbie was also dressed in flannel. But there all similarity ended. Her flannel was in the form of ‘jammies’.
Pyjamas that had once consisted of a button-front jacket and long pants.
The jacket was now held shut by one last, tenacious button.
The pants had long since ceased to even approximate reaching the ankle and were now permanently formed to the bend of Debbie’s knee.
She loved them.
But fashionable, they weren’t.
Back to my story . . .
Our minds were too fuzzy from studying to even consider changing our clothes.
Okay, yes, there could be a valid argument made for said fuzzy minds operating machinery, ie. the car, but it was 3 am. Who would listen?
I threw on the long dressing gown that my Mom had made to go over my long nightgown.
And a coat.
I was ready.
Debbie had her short car coat which reached just above her knee. Said coat left an obvious several inches of ‘jammies’ hanging below.
Hmmm . . .
She frowned slightly, then leaned over and rolled up the tell-tale flannel.
All was well.
We set out.
Now there weren’t many places open to the public in Lethbridge, Alberta at 3 AM in 1974.
But, happily, the pizza place was.
I pushed the door open.
Every head in the joint turned to look in my direction.
All two of them.
Both cops.
I smiled and waved cheerfully and they smiled back.
Then their attention turned to the girl behind me.
The one frozen in place with one hand on the door.
And a pyjama leg dangling obviously below the hem of her coat.
They stared at each other.
One of the policemen beckoned.
Debbie shook her head, backing slowly towards the car.
I frowned at her.
What was the matter?
A moment before, she had been cheerfully ready go out in public, unconventionally dressed as she was.
What made the difference?
Policemen?
I could guarantee that they had probably seen much worse than a couple of girls collecting a pizza while dressed in pyjamas.
But Debbie retreated to the car and left me to pick up the pizza by myself.
Sigh.
Jammies. Good for everything. Lounging. Studying. Sleeping.
But used for dining out only under certain circumstances.
‘Cop-less’ circumstances.
So if you’re planning a late night run to the restaurant?
Wear your nightie.



8 comments:

  1. He probably just wanted to roll her pant legs up for her.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Heeheehee! Of course he did! Hmm . . . I wonder if they were the 'fashion' police?

      Delete
  2. Diane, as you probably know from my posts, I wear pajama pants everywhere. Fashion faux pas? I don't care! At my age, I'm putting comfort first! So good for you for donning your pj's to pick up pizza! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I LOVE my PJ's. I was one happy person when more and more people started appearing in public in their comfy jammies! It's a good world . . .

      Delete
  3. I told my wife that when I make it good, I'm going to be clad in nothing more than lounging pants, a bathrobe and slippers. People will see me uptown and all will know me and say hi. My wife will see me and look the other way.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bwahahahahaha! She looks the other way now . . .

      Delete
  4. lol Diane, that was cute... I have never been brave enough to wear my pj's out in public;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I figure as long as your covered!!! :)

      Delete

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