A day out in my pyjamas
A SOCIAL welfare office in Blanchardstown, North Dublin, caused surprising ructions last week when it told the public that “pyjamas are not regarded as appropriate attire when attending community welfare services.”
To find out how the people of Dublin felt about the ‘controversy’, I dressed in my best navy blue pyjama top and red tartan bottoms, grey bathrobe and pink slippers, and took to the streets of the capital.
On Merrion Square, 29-year-old teacher John Monohan said sporting jim-jams in the day sent a message beginning with ‘F’ and ending with ‘you’ to the rest of society.
“I thought going down to the Spar was bad enough but it’s probably a statement that you’ve dropped out of society altogether if you’re not even willing to put on your trousers in the morning. It doesn’t display much ambition, does it?” he said.
Dublin Bus driver Sean is taking a break. He is not a fan of the nightwear-to-the-welfare brigade. “Well, I think it’s disgraceful really,” he said. “You should have some respect, you know.”
After walking around and getting used to the expressions of bafflement at my attire, I began to feel comfortable — the pink slippers were soft. Most people seemed to suspect banter rather than anything sinister. It’s easy to spend the day in this clobber.
I popped into Trinity College and asked students what they thought; don’t they spend half their lives in pyjamas?
“It all depends on what you think suitable attire is,” said 19-year-old music student Dean Millar. “Clothes are clothes, as long as you’re covering yourself it should be fine. At the same time, make an effort and get dressed.”
Three of the four students thought they would be allowed to attend a lecture in their nocturnal apparel.
But 22-year-old Eoghan Desmond isn’t so sure. “I think people have been kicked out in past years,” he says. “There is a mythology going around about it anyway. So I’m not sure you’d be allowed in. It’s kind of disrespectful. If you’re going in anywhere in your pyjamas you’re clearly not taking it seriously.”
“I think we should be allowed to wear whatever we want,” says 21-year-old Dominica Williams. “If we want to wear pyjamas we should wear pyjamas; if we want to wear a dress that shows everything we should be allowed to do so.”
At the bottom of Grafton Street an oversized leprechaun, delighted to see someone looking almost as ridiculous, opens his arms to suggest a cuddle. I obliged and as we posed for photos I asked him about pyjama-gate. “Yeah, I heard about it alright and I think it’s ridiculous,” he said. “They come in with all sorts of negligee and lingerie and it looks great. It adds a bit of glamour to the dole queue. A bit of positivity. Why not?”
As I mulled over the leprechaun’s blatant embellishments of detail, I was approached by three young women offering hugs. Taking advantage of my comfortable position as the biggest nutcase walking the city, I dived straight in and hugged all three. The girls were German and when I explained what we were doing and why, they seemed a smidgen gobsmacked. “People go around in their pyjamas?” said one of them disappointedly, realising that handing out hugs on a main thoroughfare in Dublin isn’t as uber-crazy as she had hoped. “There is no way you would be allowed to do this in Germany,” said another.
On hearing this — and presumably because of my alluring pink slippers — Stephen McGrath comes over to offer his tuppenceworth. “I actually live in Ballybough myself and it’s common for people to walk kids to school in pyjamas,” he said. “My own view is that it’s acceptable to a degree, you know I just think it’s part of Dublin and I just laugh at it.”
Bridie, a flower vendor on Grafton Street, said she doesn’t see as many women in their pyjamas as before. Bridie said I was the first person she had seen going down this famous street in their pyjamas; as the statue of Phil Lynott looked on, my chest swelled at the thought.
With my confidence at an all-time high, I spotted an all-singing, all-dancing Hare Krishna quartet coming down Grafton Street, so I joined them. There’s no way I would have done this in my civvies and it was liberating. Emboldened, I headed for the Merrion Hotel. Nodding at the doormen, I made my way up the steps and into the main foyer where I was greeted by a younger concierge.
“Good afternoon sir,” he said without batting an eyelid.
“Are you seriously not going to stop me?” I asked as I was about to walk past him.
“Sir?”
Disappointed not to be refused, I turned around and out the door, realising that this was not the first time they had seen something similar.
Rock stars and movie actors had probably come in and out in strange or unsuitable attire. Dressing whatever way you want spans all class of person — but if you have money it’s called fashion. Still, I think I’ll keep my jammies for bed time in future. And I’m definitely keeping the slippers.
* According to a spokesperson from the Department of Social Protection “there is no dress code for customers accessing the Community Welfare Services … but a local manager may act on complaints or concerns expressed by customers on an individual basis.”
When asked if the manager at the office had the support of the department, the answer was vague: “The Department of Social Protection makes every effort to respond to customer feedback. And it was in this spirit that the advisory notice was displayed.”
