Pajama Jeans or Jeggings?

My friend Amy started a thread on Facebook about “pajama jeans” the other day. I had not idea what they were so I Googled them. Apparently they are a combination of jeans and pajamas, as one might expect. But are they stretch denim or cotton spandex? Or what?

The topic shifted a smidge to “jeggings,” which I also Googled: they are a combination of jeans and leggings, which makes sense. Again I was curious; are they those tacky leggings that are cheap fabric silkscreened to look like denim, with fake stitching? All that Googling didn’t answer my questions; it’s tough to tell exactly what’s going on in so many tiny pixels. One thing appeared to differentiate the two products: jeggings are tight at the ankle while pajama jeans a looser, like bell bottoms. I wasn’t quite clear on the nuances of pajama jeans as opposed to yoga pants, since both appear to be made of stretchy stuff.

Everyone was lamenting our decline into lazy clothing and I suppose I can see how wearing such elasticized pants could herald middle age and its accompanying expansion. I was attracted to the allure of comfort; since I’m thinner than I’ve been in years, I can wear “skinny” jeans. And all the style web sites pictured movie stars posing in them, proof that they aren’t only for the lazy and paunchy!

Amy announced that she’d ordered a pair of pajama jeans online; I’ll anxiously await seeing them up close. As for the jeggings, I picked up a pair at Nordstrom Rack for the acceptably experimental price of $9.99. They were packaged in a way that made it impossible to try them on, like tights, so I bought them more or less on faith.

Big mistake. I slipped them on and even with much yanking and squatting, there simply wasn’t enough fabric between the “rise” or crotch to the waistband, which was comfortably elastic but UNcomfortably low-rise. Meaning hip-hugger. I can totally deal with hip-hugger jeans and usually don’t even suffer from the dreaded “muffin top.” But I thought the whole point of jeggings was to do away with the bulk of belt loops, belt buckles and, if you were a sufferer, muffin tops. An elastic waistband that doesn’t actually make it to your waist will dig into anyone’s flesh and when you sit down, well, the jeggings slide right off your ass. At least my jeggings slid right off of MY ass!

I couldn’t take it. Even if I sported my jeggings under a dress or long shirt, I’d be hiking them up every time I stood up. Never a good look. and if I paired them with a shirt that didn’t cover my ass, the sliding elastic would be UNcovering my ass! Thus was “waisted” $9.99. Guess I need to get a pair of pajama jeans…

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