Pajama Sets//Lingerie No One Will Ever See.
June 28th, 2024
My roommate Julia is a pajama set girl. She always has these adorable pajama sets. Pink satin with lace. Black with white trim and buttons. Slip dress with bows. She is the most stylish going-to-bed person I’ve ever met. My friend Lauren is the same way. She had these blue and white floral pajamas that we called the “Rich Cape Cod Housewife” pajamas. Not to brag, but the past few nights, I have been sleeping in exercise clothes because I haven’t done laundry in a while.
There is something so romantic about pajama sets. So elegant, so woman-ly, so lovely, so I-am-beloved-not-only-by-others-around-me-but-also-by-myself-becuase-i-am-a-divine-feminine-creation.
I don’t own pajama sets. I never see one at the store that I like enough to buy. Or I think, what’s the point? I have no one to wear them for? And don’t say, “You should wear them for yourself!” Like actually please shut up. I don’t need to impress my roommates, either, by rocking a satin pajama set with pink macaroons and bows and Eiffel Towers on them. I don’t buy them because I have no use for them.
I remember when my high school best friend, Kaya, told me that my high school boyfriend (remaining unnamed because I am not that unhinged) was planning on getting me a pajama set for my birthday. We were both deeply confused, because why would an 18-year-old boy buy his soon-to-be 18-year-old girlfriend a pajama set? To us, this was laughable. Why did I need to look super nice while going to bed? I looked plenty fine in a grey tank top or an old volleyball shirt and some pair of pajama shorts that had been far too small for far too long. She convinced him to buy me a necklace instead, which was a good choice, I will admit, as I still wear it regularly even after we’ve broken up and I heard rumors he has a new girlfriend.
Only now do I realize how stupid I was for laughing at the proposition of a pajama set, because since then, I have not really had anyone to wear one for and I should have really taken advantage of that time in my life a little more.
Something I do buy is lingerie that no one will ever see. Every time Victoria’s Secret has a sale, I am in there purchasing way too much money's worth of adorable bras and cutie underwear — most of which still have the tags on them to this day. I am the victim of the semi-annual sale every single time. I see a little lace-y bra and I think, oh my gosh! I have to have it! It would look so cute! And then I go in the fitting room and I try said bra on and what would you know it is super cute! And wow, I have the perfect sized boobs. And wow look at how good they look in lace-y lingerie-y bras! And I pose all sexy in the mirror to myself and run my fingers through my hair and envision that this is exactly how I look when someone would see me in this bra. And I swing my hips from side to side and pretend I am dancing at a bar and there is someone behind me watching me dance all sexy and they are going to be uber impressed by this new sexy sexy bra I have on that only enhances the natural sexiness of being drunk and being me. And then I remember that I am in a fitting room and this has never once happened to me and why would I wear this in a bar in the first place and why was I sexy dancing to myself and I get the most intense embarrassment and regret from even being born in the first place.
But this isn’t enough to stop me from keeping the bra in my arms and eventually spending way too much money on it.
And while I am walking around the store to see if this is in fact the sexiest bra that Victoria’s Secret has on sale, I see a cute pair of lace-y lingerie-y underwear that would perfectly match the bra (they are also on sale). What am I supposed to do, not buy them too? I am already buying the sexy sexy bra and I would be even more sexy in the matching sexy sexy underwear (I will never wear this in a sexual instance, ever). So now I have a whole lingerie set and you can see where my issue lies. If I am doing this semi-annually, and I have been doing this for a few years now, I have accumulated a lot of sexy sexy lingerie that has never ever gotten any use.
So I go to check out and the lady looks at me with that look. You know, that Victoria’s Secret worker look. Either its, “Wow, you have more sex than me in this sexy sexy lingerie and I am insanely jealous of you,” or its, “I fucking know you aren’t wearing these for anyone, and frankly, its pathetic. Hope you felt aroused in the fitting rooms because that's the most action you will be getting, and honestly, it's embarrassing.” I can’t tell which thought process is behind the weird disgruntled look of the girls working the cash register but I couldn’t care less because I going to look so so sexy for my non-existent hypothetic hot hunky perfect smile expensive cologne boyfriend that I am making up in my head when I am wearing this set that I got on sale.
I think the fall from glory arrives at the same time of the month as your credit card bill. And maybe your period, as well. Which, by the way, you were in no means afraid you might miss because there is no way you are pregnant in the slightest. But mainly the credit card bill, you know. When I look through my statement and see that not only did I spend way more money than I would have liked to, but a significant chunk of that money went to string with some lace on it that has been sitting in my drawer with the tags on for almost a month now, there is a little pang of defeat that reverberates through my chest. I can sometimes trick myself into thinking that little pain was actually from pulling a muscle during the intense hot yoga I did earlier that day (because yes I am very flexible! Not that anyone is taking advantage of that!) but I know it's really because I secretly hope, every time that I buy lingerie no one will ever see, that someone will see it.
(P.S. On the off chance I do have sex, I am usually caught wearing the dirtiest grossest plainest most beige bra the world has ever seen)