satin pajamas

I Sexed Up My Sleepwear and Woke Up to My Best Self

How swapping sweats for silk boosted my confidence way beyond bedtime

It all started when French makeup artist Violette told me she wears perfume to bed every night. “I don’t want to smell like toothpaste and makeup remover,” she said in an accent more Parisian than crêpe au chocolat. “I want to smell a little sexier, you know?”

The admission struck me as the chicest thing I’d ever heard. I imagined the It girl lounging in a sea of white sheets, reading Baudelaire as notes of jasmine emanated from her skin. It was everything I aspired to be and decidedly wasn’t.

For context, my bedtime routine consists of audibly flopping into bed in sweats and promo tees I’ve collected from gift bags over the years. Pink patches of Mario Badescu’s sulfur spot treatment usually dot my face. “You smell like the Everglades,” my boyfriend remarks. I’m but a swamp creature draped in pilly grey cotton.

Here’s the thing: Sweat pants and worn out tees are cozy as hell. They are also, however, guaranteed mojo killers. As soon as they make contact with my skin, the only thing I yearn to do is eat dinner in bed and watch Real Housewives. No weeknight wine or Fleurs du mal—I sink straight into slobhood.

As I stand over my very grey, very sad pyjama drawer, Violette’s words echo through my head. “I must do better,” I tell myself. I take such pleasure in assembling my daytime outfits, so why is my night look so tragic?

I reach to the back of the cramped drawer, rummaging through the heavy-rotation stuff until my fingers stumble on something different, silkier. Out comes a long-forgotten Calvin Klein slip I’d scored at a Boxing Day sale.

Sweat pants and worn out tees are cozy as hell. They are also, however, guaranteed mojo killers.

Alone in my apartment, I decide to put it on. The slinky fit instantly makes me act, well, slinkier. Suddenly, I’m not compelled to cover my body with fuzzy blankets, a laptop and my cat. Instead, I fix myself a cup of tea, the kind I save for occasions that never come, and tuck into some Joan Didion on the couch. I feel sexy, refined. Even my cat is staring.

In the days that 
follow, I find myself
 scouring the web for
 more lovely things to fill my drawer with: a ruffled cami and boxer set, a lace-trimmed teddy (now my boyfriend’s staring), a knee-length robe cut in soft, floral-printed linen. They trigger a surprising ripple effect. I buy the lavender pillow mist I used to love but haven’t restocked in forever. I text my boyfriend to meet me for oysters on a Tuesday. I even book a lash lift to look more awake.

The latter is wonderful, but I don’t even need it, to be honest. I feel more energized than I have in months. I used to think of bedtime as a sort of white flag that said, “You win, day. I give up.” Now, it’s become an indulgent ritual complete with fancy teas and pillow mists—an occasion worth dressing up for.
 
Photography by Luis Mora. Hair and makeup by Brittany Sinclair/P1M. The Ethical Silk Company Robe, $331, theethicalsilkco.com. The Ethical Company Silk Sleep Mask, $47, theethicalsilkco.com. The Sleep Shirt camisole and short set, $100, thesleepshirt.com. Birdies Slippers, $189, birdiesslippers.com. Earrings, stylist’s own. 

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