On dressing gowns ...

Anyone who knows me well knows that I love my dressing gown. I think I inherited this love from my mother, who has always worn one (well, for as long as I can remember anyway). I certainly know that it didn't come from my dad. He finds them loathesome and wouldn't be caught dead in one ... although I do remember one Christmas back in the early '80s when my grandma made my dad and two younger brothers matching "man-robes". Basically they were just bits of orange towelling that covered the bottom and not a lot else - a bit like tool-belts actually. I distinctly remember a photo of the three males in our family all lined up in front of the Christmas tree in their matching orange attire. I think that may have been the one and only time the "man-robes" were worn. Probably a good thing too as they didn't leave much to the imagination! 

My love of dressing gowns started in my early teens. You know that time of life where the weekends are made for sleeping-in and catching up with friends, and when you think it's entirely appropriate to still be walking around in your pjs at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Well, I'm a bit cold-blooded and I grew up in a large and very cold old villa (think ice on the inside of the windows in winter, no joke!), so it wasn't enough for me just to wear my pjs around the house. I needed a dressing gown, and it wasn't long until I got one. Dark green candlewick it was too. It weighed a ton but wearing it felt just about as good as still being snuggled up under layers and layers of wool blankets in bed. Of course it looked awful. The colour did absolutely nothing for me, and I'm pretty sure that candlewick is generally only used for bedspreads for a reason. Add to that the fact that it was full length and you've got yourself one very unattractive piece of attire. Still, it came with me to university (that candlewick is very hard-wearing!) and when it did eventually get threadbare I replaced it with a slightly more modern version. This time a white, knee-length dessing gown that showed up all the stains from where I'd drop my breakfast on it. While not as good as the first, I was still loyally devoted to it and was with me for the better part of 4 years I'd say.

Eventually, however, that one wore out too and I'm now onto my third dressing gown, a full-length, light blue, completely 100% man-made creation that is very snuggly. A little too snuggly at times actually. Being altogether absent of any natural fibres its lack of breathability does mean it has the tendency to make me overheat and perspire very unglamorously now and then. I would like to say that that's its only flaw, but there is another - I look like the cookie monster in it. Still, it serves me well when I'm up in the night or doing all those jobs a mother does before she has her morning shower, so I love it regardless.

Now, having for so many years started my day off by getting out of bed and immediately putting on my dressing gown, I decided that Thomas needed to experience the joy of this too. No more running around in just pjs on these increasingly cold mornings for him! Luckily in the pile of Mum's old patterns I found one for a kids robe in just the right size, so I was all set. I bought some navy polar fleece and let Thomas choose some fun lion buttons and got to sewing. After struggling to understand the pattern's instructions (who writes these things?), realising my automatic button-holer couldn't handle the fabric, and running out of the right coloured cotton more than once I finally finished. The result was gorgeous - warm, snuggly and very cute. I couldn't wait for Thomas to try it out!

Unfortunately, it appears that Thomas does not share my love of dressing gowns. He won't wear it, or at least not for any length of time. Even the lion buttons aren't enough to make him look favourably on it. I'm not entirely sure what it is he dislikes about it - it could be the collar (I think it's a bit tickly about his chin), or the fact that he's the opposite to me and never seems to feel the cold so doesn't need it, or maybe he just takes after his granddad. Either way, I think it's been relegated to the back of the bedroom door for eternity. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to resign myself to the fact that dressing gowns just aren't for everyone, and especially not my little Mr T.