On… a nightgown Leave a reply So, recently I went to a party with an all-girls sleepunder theme. The premise: Like a sleepover, but we all have work and small children and/or babies and really need our fucking sleep. So we started at 4pm and went home at 10pm. We had chocolate and candy and Jell-O shots and cocktails and ice cream cake. We drank fast, talked fast, and then went home and crashed. It was THE BEST. Anyway, the dress code was ‘athleisure’. I thought to myself, I’m not wearing athleisure, I detest work out gear. I don’t even wear it to work out anymore. (I wear baggy sweatpants and a Buffy The Vampire Slayer t-shirt, most days.) I’m going to wear the frilliest, dorkiest, most Victorian-virgin passion-killing nightgown I can find. Nailed it. (Apologies for messy sink.) I was the happiest little party animal in the world that night. I felt comfortable and fun and pretty and kind of cool, in a non-cool way (which is, of course, the best kind of cool). I felt like an updated, yet also terribly regressive, version of Courtney Love and Amanda de Cadenet, when they got trashed in silky night slips that time in the 90s. In other words, I felt like me. I’m wearing this nightie – and a couple of the others in the range – ALL SUMMER. And not just to bed. I’m wearing them to write. To meet friends. To the playground. To the beach. To bed. This nightie can do no wrong in my eyes. Anyway, you can find it here. Order a size or two down. They are gigantic.