Prolonged Pandemic Prompts Peculiar Poppy PJs Purchase
Having fully accepted my 20-something’s distillation of middle age to a borderline spectral interest in flowers and birds, I’m leaning in. I have taken to fixating over blossoms and blooms as a coping mechanism during the ongoing public health crisis, and my husband has pursued some amateur ornithology. The level of our casual interests in these topics has definitely amped up, so much so that it has elicited slightly disparaging commentary from both our kids. Apparently, my college grad finds this amusing and proof that his notion of ‘Boomers’ — note both my husband and I are Gen X-ers, but no matter, chickens are coming home to roost and our decidedly sarcasm/ satire filled home has created a monster — is cemented by our new found interests. I own it, I have taken my need for pretty flowers to a new level in an effort to boost my spirits over this prolonged pandemic. I photograph them, paint them, arrange them in vases all over the house, I even joined Filoli Gardens, (where some of the 80’s show Dynasty was filmed) because besides wine, yoga, hiking, Netflix and scalding baths, flowers are the things that inspire calm and make me smile. They got me through the election and continue to bring color and joy to sometimes colorless days.
So when I saw a sale item —pictured in an email —for a lightweight poppy pajama set, I couldn’t help myself. My birthday was coming up, I told myself, and I have all but worn out my schleprock assortment of nightwear as night and day have morphed together over the last 18 months. Shambling around til noon in my mismatched pajamas and tops is not a recipe for ‘feeling good’. Sometimes when I change and my younger son asks where I’m going, “just changing into my day clothes” I respond. I have figured out if I put on a necklace and maybe some mascara and lipstick for Zoom, I look put together enough for my Brady Bunch box; only took me a year and half. So I bought the pajamas. I also told myself that with Climate Change and menopause, lightweight pjs were now necessary. In the past, the coldest winters were the summers in San Francisco, with full on flannel bedding and occasional heat. But no more, the combo of hot flashes and rising temperatures means I need more summer wear. I’ve always kept a modest assortment of summer clothes since moving to the Bay Area in 1991, for trips, camping and the odd day when the temperature peaked over 70. Now — alas — I need to rethink things a bit. Layers are still de rigueur, but you can’t necessarily count on the fog rolling in, and add wildfire smoke into the mix and all bets are off on temperature and air quality. Ventilation and air purification are now daily concerns.
So I got these floral pjs in a big size to ensure comfort and I cannot tell you how happy I am with them! Now I just need to get a new pair of slippers, as I’ve worn out the second pair during this ongoing shut-in period. It makes me chuckle to think my kids have this quasi-geriatric perception of my interests. Then again, both boys seem to have taken to thrifting; a passion of which I have spent years trying to wean myself, to no avail, so maybe sometime soon they will appreciate flowers and birds. It only took nine years and countless coaxing sessions to get one of them to sign up for ceramics at school!
