Hello my friend.
Welcome to humorously dull history for sleep.
My name is Stephen Dalton.
And it is my hope.
.
.
That as I tell you lots of different facts about particular periods in history tonight,
You find me so incredibly boring that you fall asleep very quickly.
And maybe.
.
.
Even with a smile upon your face.
It is humorous history after all.
Tonight I'll tell you.
The Humorously Dull History of pyjamas.
Yes,
Pajamas.
Once formal day-wear in the courts of Mughal emperors Warn to receive ambassadors and govern an empire.
Can currently be found in the supermarket,
Buying milk.
At 10 past 11 at night.
So,
Just before we get started,
Allow yourself to Settle into this moment.
Leave the day that was behind.
Feel the support.
Of whatever you lie upon.
If your eyes aren't closed yet.
Allow them to close.
Whatever has been.
Has been.
It's history now.
Whatever will be.
Will be.
All you have is this moment.
And my voice.
So allow your curiosity to be a part of this pleasant experience,
As I tell you.
The humorously dull history of pyjamas.
Part one.
In which humanity spends a very long time.
Without pyjamas.
For reasons that historians have never satisfactorily explained.
The History of Clothing tends to concern itself almost exclusively.
With the hours during which people are awake.
Books have been written about.
Roman togas.
Entire museum exhibitions.
Have been devoted to medieval cloaks.
Scholars have spent distinguished careers debating colors.
Choose.
And hats.
The perfectly reasonable question.
Of what everyone wore to bed.
Has received remarkably little attention.
This is especially unfortunate.
Because.
For almost all of human history.
The answer.
Was wonderfully simple.
Whatever happened to be available?
To discover the true history of pyjamas,
Therefore,
We must begin in a time.
When pyjamas were not merely unfashionable.
They were entirely unimaginable.
Our story opens somewhere in prehistory.
Exactly where?
Is difficult to say.
Prehistoric people had many admirable qualities.
But keeping detailed postal addresses.
Was not among them.
The date.
Is equally uncertain.
It is broadly speaking.
A very long time ago.
Long enough ago that nobody had invented writing.
Long enough ago that metal tools remained a distant dream.
Long enough ago.
Than asking someone the time.
Would simply have resulted in both of you looking vaguely upwards.
Human beings were already remarkably resourceful.
They made tools from stone.
They discovered how to control fire.
They worked together in families and small communities.
They crossed rivers.
Climbed mountains.
And gradually.
Spread across enormous parts of the world.
Civilization,
However.
Still heard a rather ambitious list of improvements.
Wishing to be made.
One of these.
Was the mattress.
Another.
It was pyjamas.
Both would require considerable patience.
As evening approached.
Prehistoric families.
Settled down for the night.
In whatever shelter fortune had provided.
Sometimes this was a cave.
Sometimes.
It was a simple structure made from branches,
Hides,
And determination.
Determination was an important building material.
For much of history.
It compensated for a surprising lack of thought.
Well everything else.
The popular image of cavemen.
Living permanently inside caves.
Is,
Of course.
Only partly true.
Many prehistoric people.
Never lived in caves at all.
My cave was an excellent place to live.
If you happen to have one nearby.
If not?
One simply had to become.
Rather more imaginative.
This was mildly inconvenient.
One cannot simply order a cave.
Even today.
They remain frustratingly difficult to assemble.
The evening itself was probably rather familiar.
The fire was kept alive.
Food was shared.
Tools might be repaired.
Someone would undoubtedly tell the same story they had already told at least fourteen times before.
Every family appears to have had one.
Perhaps it can turn to an unusually large mammoth.
Perhaps it became slightly larger with each retelling.
Human beings have always enjoyed improving perfectly good stories.
Eventually.
Sabban Johan.
This ancient signal appears to have changed very little over the millennia.
It remains humanity's polite way.
Of announcing that any further conversation.
Is becoming increasingly optimistic.
The group.
Settled down.
Children.
Fell asleep first.
Adults followed not long afterwards.
Someone snored.
Some traditions require no invention whatsoever.
What they did not do.
Was excuse themselves for a few moments.
In order to change into something more comfortable.
There was nothing to change into.
The entire concept.
Would have seemed.
Wonderfully unnecessary.
If you owned clothing at all,
It had already demanded a considerable investment of time and effort.
Animal hides did not prepare themselves.
Threads did not politely appear.
Bone needles,
Once eventually invented still required someone patient enough to stitch everything together by hand.
The idea.
Of producing an entirely separate outfit.
Whose sole responsibility was accompanying unconsciousness.
Would have struck most prehistoric people.
As extravagantly optimistic.
They had considerably bigger concerns.
Such as tomorrow.
Tomorrow might involve finding food.
It might involve avoiding becoming somebody else's food.
History.
Has always been wonderfully balanced in that respect.
The first clothing was practical.
Before it was beautiful.
Warmth measured.
Protection mattered.
Survival.
Mattered.
Fashion.
Could we?
Nobody.
So far as archaeology has yet revealed.
Decorated a cave wall with paintings.
Entitled.
Early spring sleepwear collection.
This is a pity.
It would have saved historians.
An enormous amount of speculation.
Animal skins.
Remained the obvious choice for colder climates.
They were effective.
They trapped warmth.
They were durable.
They were also not especially forgiving.
When one attempted to sleep on one side.
Modern advertising frequently promises the perfect night's sleep.
Prehistoric advertising.
Had it existed.
Might have settled for.
Probably warmer than freezing.
Expectations were refreshingly modest.
As thousands of years drifted by.
People became steadily more skilled.
Stone tools improved.
Hunting improved.
Shelters improve.
The sewing of clothing.
Became more sophisticated.
Particularly after the invention.
Of eyed bone-needles.
Allowing heights to be fitted more comfortably around the body.
This was a genuine breakthrough.
Although it would still be many thousands of years.
Before anyone looked at these increasingly well-made garments.
And suggested reserving one set.
Exclusively for bedtime.
There was,
After all,
Little point.
If you possessed one excellent garment.
Why remove it before sleeping?
You would only have to put it back on again in the morning.
Human beings have always appreciated.
Efficiency.
Besides.
Prehistoric wardrobes.
Were it delightfully uncomplicated.
There were no difficult decisions.
No standing thoughtfully before a collection of twenty-seven shirts,
While quietly concluding that there was somehow.
Nothing to wear.
No drawer devoted entirely to socks.
That had mysteriously lost all sense of companionship.
No annual discussion about whether it was Finally time to replace the old nightshirt.
Life contained many hardships.
Choosing an outfit.
Was really among them.
And so.
.
.
Humanity spent century after century Then millennium after millennium.
Becoming steadily cleverer.
People learned to fish more effectively.
They learned to build stronger homes.
They learned to sail.
They learned to trade.
They learn.
To shape the world around them.
In remarkable ways.
Still.
No pajamas.
Not even slightly.
They remained patiently somewhere in the distant future.
Waiting for civilization.
To become just a little more comfortable.
Before finally deciding that bedtime,
Too,
Deserved its own clothing.
Part two,
In which civilization arrives.
But pyjamas continue to show remarkably little interest.
By around 3500 BC.
Humanity had achieved something rather impressive.
Instead of wandering from place to place in search of food.
People had begun settling together in permanent communities.
Villages.
Slowly became tones.
Towns.
Became cities.
And before long the land between the Tigris and the Euphrates rivers was home to what historians generally recognize as the world's first great civilization.
The Sumerians had arrived.
This was an extraordinarily busy period.
Writing was invented.
The wheel appeared.
Large temples.
Rose above the cities.
Trade flourished.
Complex mathematics developed.
People even began keeping detailed records of grain,
Livestock and taxes,
Proving that paperwork has been making perfectly respectable people miserable for at least 5,
000 years.
It was.
By any reasonable measure.
An astonishing leap forward.
And yet.
At the end of another successful day of civilization.
Still no pajamas.
One cannot help feeling someone missed an opportunity.
Imagine the meeting,
If you will.
We have developed writing.
Excellent.
We have measured the movements of the stars.
Wonderful.
We have invented the wheel.
Splendid!
Anything else?
No.
Nobody raises a hand.
Nobody quietly suggests that.
Perhaps climbing into bed,
Wearing yesterday's dusty linen.
Might not represent the pinnacle of human achievement.
History moves on.
The Sumerians dressed sensibly for the climate.
Linen and wool were common materials,
Depending upon status and season.
Most garments were practical,
Straightforward,
And designed to survive everyday life,
Rather than impress anyone after sunset.
Bedtime.
People generally removed what was sensible to remove.
Loosened.
What was sensible to loosen.
And slept in some combination.
Of simple garments.
Undergarments.
Or very little at all.
It depended upon wealth.
It depended upon temperature.
It depended upon whether the neighbours were likely to mind.
History rarely supplies the finer details.
This is one of the great frustrations of studying ancient life.
Kings leave inscriptions.
Celebrating magnificent victories.
Merchants record astonishing business deals.
Describe elaborate religious ceremonies.
Almost nobody finishes a clay tablet by adding clay.
Incidentally,
I slept terribly last night.
The blanket kept slipping off.
It would have been wonderfully useful.
Archaeologists,
One suspects.
Would have appreciated the honesty.
As cities became wealthier.
Clothing naturally became more sophisticated.
Better weaving techniques.
Produced finer fabrics.
Tailors became increasingly skilled.
People developed an eye for fashion.
This was entirely predictable.
The moment civilization has enough spare time.
Someone invariably decides.
Another person's clothing is unacceptable.
It has remained one of humanity's favourite hobbies ever since.
Even so.
Nobody appears especially concerned.
About what happened after bedtime.
Daytime clothing was important.
Ceremonial closing.
Was important.
Religious clothing.
Was important.
Royal Clothing was extremely important.
Sleep well,
However.
Remained almost aggressively ordinary.
It had not yet occurred to anyone that sleeping might benefit from its own dedicated outfit.
Perhaps they were simply too busy inventing civilization.
One must establish laws.
Before worrying about.
Draw strings.
The great cities continued to grow.
Children were born.
Empire has expanded.
Generations.
Came and went.
Entire dynasties rose.
And disappeared into history.
Thousands upon thousands of evenings.
Ended in exactly the same way.
Someone yawn.
Someone stretched.
Someone declared they were turning in for the night.
Everyone continued going to bed in clothing that had already worked an entire day shift.
It was efficient.
If not especially glamorous.
The Egyptians,
However.
Now there was a civilization.
That appreciated linen.
One almost begins to feel.
Hopeful.
Surely.
If anyone was going to stumble upon the idea.
Comfortable bedtime closing.
Would be a people who had already become remarkably fond of light,
Breathable fabric.
Surely.
At last.
Perhaps.
We are getting.
Closer.
.
.
Not quite.
But closer.
Part 3.
In which the Egyptians master linen.
Yet somehow stop just short of pyjamas.
If the Sumerians came close.
The ancient Egyptians came even closer.
There are moments in history when one feels that an invention is almost inevitable.
The ingredients are all there.
The raw materials exist.
The necessary skills have been mastered.
Society is prosperous enough.
To indulge in a little extra comfort.
All that remains.
Is for one person to have an idea.
Unfortunately.
That person was apparently busy.
Doing something else.
The Egyptians became.
Masters of Linen.
While much of Europe would spend centuries wrapped in increasingly determined quantities of wool,
Egypt enjoyed.
The rather more sensible solution.
Of growing flax.
Their fibres were spun into linen that was light,
Breathable,
And well suited to the Egyptian climate.
It was comfortable,
Practical,
And,
For those who could afford the finer examples,
Surprisingly elegant.
If history had been following a sensible script.
Pyjamas.
Would have appeared here.
They did not.
Instead,
Egyptians continued doing what humanity had always done.
When bedtime arrived.
They adjusted what they were already wearing.
Remove.
What was no longer necessary.
And went to sleep.
It is a surprisingly recurring theme.
One begins to admire their consistency.
Egyptian artists.
Left us thousands of paintings showing everyday life.
We see farmers harvesting grain.
Scribes patiently recording accounts.
Fishermen casting their nets.
Musicians entertaining guests.
Noblemen hunting birds among the reeds.
And cats looking faintly unimpressed.
By the entire civilization.
Cuts,
It seems.
Reached emotional maturity remarkably early.
Curiously,
Very few artists appear to have felt inspired to paint someone wandering around the house before bed,
Wondering where they had left their favourite sleeping tunic.
This is disappointing.
Not because it would have changed history.
Simply because it would have made this chapter considerably easier to write.
The wealthy.
Owned several changes of clothing.
This was one of the many advantages of being wealthy.
Another was not having to carry heavy things yourself.
If you possessed several linen garments,
You could certainly choose a cleaner one before retiring for the evening.
Whether this technically counts as sleepwear.
Is another matter.
Changing into cleaner clothing before bed is not quite the same as owning clothing designed specifically for sleeping.
It is rather like using the dining room chair.
As somewhere to place yesterday's washing.
It works.
But one suspects the chair had originally been intended for another purpose.
The poor,
Meanwhile.
Were rarely troubled by such decisions.
When you own very little clothing.
Deciding what to wear to bed requires remarkably little thought.
You simply continue wearing the clothing you already possess.
Some historians have suggested that ancient people were tougher than we are today.
There may be some truth in that.
They certainly complained less in writing.
Then again.
Very few surviving clay tablets begin with the words Dear diary,
I slept terribly because my linen kept twisting around my left leg.
And more ancient people kept such records.
Historians might possess a much richer understanding of domestic life.
Instead.
We know a great deal about taxation.
History has always had unusual priorities.
The Egyptian bed itself was gradually becoming more sophisticated.
Simple wooden frames appeared.
Some wealthier households.
Even slept raised above the ground.
Rather than directly upon mats.
This represented genuine progress.
It also meant that getting out of bed became fractionally less embarrassing.
Standing up gracefully from the floor.
Has never been one of humanity's most dependable skills.
One imagines there was a noticeable reduction in involuntary grunting.
Perhaps civilization's greatest achievement.
As the centuries drifted peacefully onwards.
Egypt flourished.
Dynasties Rose Dynasties fell.
Pyramids appeared.
Temples grew larger.
Trade expanded across distant lands.
Linen became finer.
Furniture improved.
Jewelry.
Became increasingly elaborate.
Remarkably.
Still.
No pajamas.
Humanity was becoming extraordinarily accomplished.
At almost everything.
Except inventing dedicated bedtime trousers.
Fortunately.
There were still several thousand years left.
In which to correct this oversight.
Part four.
In which pyjamas finally arrive.
Though they are blissfully unaware of their future.
After several thousand years of watching humanity invent civilizations,
Agriculture.
Rising.
Taxation.
Organized religion.
Mathematics.
And a worrying variety of methods for invading one's neighbours.
We finally arrive at something genuinely useful.
Comfortable trousers.
It has been a long wait.
Our journey now takes us east.
To India.
Where loose-fitting trousers had been worn for centuries.
The word itself would eventually come from the Persian phrase pey-jamah,
Meaning,
Quite literally,
Leg garment.
There is something rather refreshing about this.
Ancient people were wonderfully direct when naming things.
If it went on your legs,
They called it leg-clothing.
If modern marketing departments had existed,
It would almost certainly have become the night comfort,
Relax-fit sleep collection.
Available in six seasonal colours.
And accompanied by a brochure explaining that your evenings would never be the same again.
The original version.
Was considerably less ambitious.
These trousers were light.
Loose.
And practical.
They tied around the waist with a simple cord,
And allowed the wearer to move about with considerably more dignity than some of Europe's tighter fashions would later permit.
One could sit cross-legged.
One could work comfortably.
One could eat comfortably.
Most importantly.
One could bend over.
Without placing unnecessary confidence.
In the stitching.
This.
History would eventually agree.
Represent it.
Progress.
Curiously.
They were not invented for sleeping.
History has an annoying habit of doing this.
One waits four thousand years for pajamas to appear.
Only to discover that they aren't actually pyjamas at all They were everyday clothing.
Comfortable everyday clothing,
Admittedly.
But every day closing.
Nevertheless.
It is rather like waiting for the history of umbrellas.
Only to discover that the first umbrellas were mostly intended to keep the sun off.
History enjoys these little practical jokes.
In India,
However,
Comfort had already become something of an art form.
Cotton had been cultivated there.
For thousands of years.
While much of Europe.
Continued wrapping itself in wool.
Of varying enthusiasm.
India had mastered fabrics that were lighter,
Cooler,
And considerably kinder to human skin.
Sleeping in cotton after several centuries of wool.
Must have felt rather like discovering that life did not,
In fact,
Have to be mildly uncomfortable all the time.
One wonders.
Whether anyone became evangelical about it.
You simply must try cotton.
No,
Thank you.
I rather enjoy sleeping inside what feels like an elderly sheep.
Conversation over.
Isn't there a remarkable thing about pajamas?
Is not that they were invented.
The remarkable thing.
Is that so many other civilizations looked at them for centuries.
Without immediately saying.
We'll have some of those.
Instead.
They remained exactly where they belonged.
People wore them.
People appreciated them.
People thought very little about them.
Which is usually the sign of an excellent invention.
The greatest inventions.
Quietly get on with their work.
Nobody spends all day praising the spoon.
Until someone forgets to provide one.
The same is true of pajamas.
You notice them most.
When they are unavailable.
Particularly if the alternative involves sleeping in clothing secured by 17 buttons.
Two buckles.
And what appears to be a small engineering project around the collar.
Europe,
Meanwhile.
Continued confidently dressing for bed in long shirts,
Linen garments,
And whatever else happened to be available.
There is no evidence that anyone was particularly unhappy about this arrangement.
Although history has a frustrating tendency.
Record military campaigns in exquisite detail,
Are remaining strangely silent on whether anyone found their sleeves irritating during the night.
One imagines they did.
Sleeves have a way of becoming surprisingly active after midnight.
Especially when one is attempting to turn over.
Buttons to become unexpectedly determined.
There is no button quite so difficult to undo as the one you have absolutely no reason to be undoing in the first place.
Fortunately for Europe.
Was on its way.
It would arrive.
As so many things eventually did.
Through trade.
Travel.
And the British Empire.
Like tea.
Except with considerably more drawstrings.
Part 5.
In which the British discover that the Indians have been right all along.
By the 18th century.
But the British Empire had developed a remarkable talent.
For travelling to distant corners of the world.
And discovering that the local population had often solved life's smaller problems centuries earlier.
One such place.
Was the Indian subcontinent.
It is an immense land.
Stretching from the snow-covered peaks of the Himalayas in the north.
To the warm waters of the Indian Ocean in the south.
Great rivers crust fertile plains.
Where cities had risen and fallen.
Long before London had become much more than a modest settlement.
Beside the Thames.
The summer air could be heavy with heat.
The monsoon rains arrive.
With extraordinary confidence.
Transforming dusty landscapes.
Into an astonishing display of green.
Mango trees.
Bent beneath their fruit.
Banyan trees.
Spreads their enormous branches.
Like living cathedrals.
And markets hummed with merchants selling cotton,
Spices,
Tea,
Silk,
And almost anything else a person might reasonably hope to buy.
And occasionally.
Several things they had no intention of buying at all.
The sounds were unlike anything.
A newly arrived British visitor.
Had ever experienced.
Temple bells echoed through the morning air.
Birds argued noisily in the trees.
Traders negotiated.
With impressive determination.
Oxen.
Wandered through busy streets.
With the quiet self-assurance of creatures entirely unconcerned by human schedules.
Somewhere.
Somebody.
Was almost certainly making food.
That smelled so extraordinary.
It immediately caused another person to reconsider everything they had eaten back home.
Into this world.
Officers.
Merchants.
Administrators.
And officials of the East India Company.
Most arrived wearing clothing.
That had been designed by people who had clearly never experienced an Indian summer.
Heavy coat.
Waistcoat.
Cravats.
Stockings.
Breaches.
Layers upon layers of fabric.
As of the greatest danger facing an Englishman in Bengal.
Was a sudden snowstorm.
One suspects the first afternoon.
Was something of an education.
The British had crossed half the world.
To establish trade.
Administer territories.
And pursue imperial ambitions.
They had not expected to perspire.
Quite so enthusiastically.
There is something.
Wonderfully optimistic about 18th century British fashion.
It seems to have been designed on the assumption that if one simply added another layer.
Everything would somehow improve The climate disagreed.
Meanwhile.
.
.
All around them.
Indian men continued wearing loose cotton garments.
That allowed the air to circulate.
The body to remain relatively cool.
And the wearer.
To complete ordinary tasks.
Without feeling as though they had wrapped themselves in an upholstered armchair.
The contrast could hardly have been greater.
One group appeared permanently prepared for a chilly autumn afternoon in Yorkshire.
The other had dressed for the country they were actually living in.
History occasionally offers lessons.
So obvious that one wonders why they require learning at all.
Eventually,
A few practical British gentlemen did something that would have horrified the more stubborn members of polite society.
They admitted that the local people might have had the better idea.
This was not always easy for the British.
The Empire possessed many admirable qualities.
Promptly admitting someone else had been right.
Was not consistently among them.
Answer.
Rather cautiously at first.
They began wearing these loose drawstring trousers around the house.
They were comfortable.
After a long day.
They were cool.
In the evening heat.
They required no wrestling with buckles.
Stockings.
Were tight breaches.
One simply tied the cord,
Relaxed,
And wondered why life had previously involved quite so many buttons.
The transformation.
Must have been.
Remarkable.
A gentleman who had spent the afternoon.
Dressed as though attending an audience with the king,
Could,
By evening,
Be wandering about in garments that were so comfortable.
They almost felt improper.
Not improper enough to stop wearing them,
Of course.
Merely improper enough to avoid mentioning them too loudly in certain company.
Pajamas had begun their quiet conquest.
They did not arrive with funfair.
They did not announce themselves.
As the future of bedtime.
They simply waited patiently.
While increasingly sensible British men.
Discover it said.
After a day spent arguing about trade.
Taxes.
And the affairs of Empire.
There was something deeply satisfying.
About changing into a pair of loose cotton trousers.
And wondering why one had not done so.
Years earlier.
Part six,
In which the Victorians encounter a perfectly good pair of trousers,
And immediately begin improving them.
By the middle of the 19th century.
Increasing numbers of British gentlemen.
Were returning home from India.
With the curious addition to their luggage.
Not jewels.
Not a priceless manuscript.
Not exotic animals.
Those are considerably more difficult to fit into a suitcase.
They brought back.
Trousers.
Exceptionally comfortable.
Trousers.
One imagines the scene in a respectable London townhouse.
My dear.
I'm home.
Welcome back.
How was India?
I expected as much.
They have extraordinary cities.
Are wonderful.
These trousers.
The cities.
The trousers.
It is difficult to overstate how unusual this must have sounded.
The British had travelled to one of the oldest civilisations on earth.
Encountered magnificent architecture.
Astonishing engineering.
Languages older than most European kingdoms.
And some of the finest textiles ever woven.
And returned,
Talking exclusively about trousers.
History occasionally has its priorities.
In a rather curious order.
At first,
These garments remained a private pleasure.
A gentleman might disappear upstairs after dinner.
Dressed in every imaginable lair.
Of respectable Victorian clothing.
In our relation.
You would emerge wearing loose cotton pyjamas.
And looking considerably happier with the direction his evening had taken.
Nobody likes to admit that a pair of trousers has improved their quality of life.
It somehow lacks grandeur.
People are much happier claiming it was philosophy.
Travel.
Personal growth.
Very few memoirs contain the sentence.
The Turning Point Game.
When I discovered its raw strength.
Which is a pity.
Some of them would have been much shorter.
The Victorians,
Naturally.
Admired the garment.
They also admired altering it.
This was one of their favorite past times.
If something worked perfectly well,
They regarded it less as a finished product.
And more as an exciting opportunity.
The original Indian pyjamas.
Had displayed.
Admirable restraint.
They knew exactly what they were.
Loose cotton trousers.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The Victorians found this.
Slightly unsettling.
There had to be something else.
A jacket,
Perhaps?
Matching naturally,
A colour,
Definitely a colour.
One has never entirely understood the Victorian relationship with colours.
There seemed to be an almost spiritual belief that if something could be fitted with one,
It probably should be.
Shirts at collars,
Coats at collars,
Even sleeping it appeared.
Might benefit from a colour.
One rather suspects the pyjamas themselves would have preferred not to comment.
Buttons began appearing.
Decorative piping followed.
Embroidery was suggested.
Someone.
Somewhere.
Undoubtedly proposed tussles.
Before being talked out of it by a calmer colleague.
Not every bad idea reaches the production stage.
Thankfully.
The Indian tailor who had first stitched together a simple pair of drawstring trousers would almost certainly have recognized the garment.
He might,
However.
Have wondered why it appeared to have attended finishing school.
The British had not ruined the pyjamas.
Far from it.
They had simply done what they always did.
Taken an elegantly simple idea.
Politely complicated it.
To be fair.
They complicated almost everything.
Tea.
Somehow acquired rules.
Dinner.
Acquired.
Rose?
Visiting friends acquired rules.
Leafing Friends.
Acquired even more rules.
It was only a matter of time before bedtime developed regulations of its own.
By the 1870s and 1880s.
Fashionable gentleman.
Increasingly regarded pyjamas.
As the modern alternative.
To the traditional night shirt.
This was no small change.
The nightshirt had enjoyed an extraordinarily successful career.
Generation after generation had gone to bed.
Wearing what was,
In essence,
A very long shirt.
The greatest strength was that one could hardly put it on incorrectly.
Its greatest weakness.
Was that one occasionally discovered at some point during the night.
That it had quietly migrated towards one's shoulders for reasons known only to itself.
Pyjamas by contrast.
Remained.
Reassuringly where they had been left.
This was widely regarded.
As progress.
Although admittedly,
By people wearing them.
The night church.
Was never invited to give its opinion.
Part 7.
In which the night-shirt refuses to leave quietly.
One should not imagine that the knight should surrender without a fight.
Presentries.
It had been the undisputed champion of bedtime.
Kings wore night-shirts.
Merchants wore nightshirts.
Lawyers wore nightshirts.
Man who had absolutely no intention of becoming lawyers.
Also wore nightshirts.
If one found oneself awake in the middle of the night in Europe,
The chances were remarkably high that everyone else awake was wearing some version of an unusually long shirt.
It had history on its side.
Pajamas by comparison,
Were the ambitious newcomer.
The Surtu arrives at a village cricket match.
And immediately begins suggesting improvements.
Not everyone was impressed.
There were gentlemen who insisted they would never abandon the nightshirt.
Their fathers had slept in one.
Their grandfathers had slept in one.
Quite possibly Charlemagne had slept in one.
Although historians are reluctant to commit themselves on the matter.
It was tradition.
Tradition has won many arguments,
Despite presenting remarkably little evidence.
Others embraced pajamas.
With almost suspicious enthusiasm.
One suspects they had been waiting years for someone to invent them.
A gentleman would invite friends to stay for the weekend.
And,
Entirely by accident of course,
Ensure he was seen at breakfast.
Wearing his new Indian-inspired sleepwear.
Oh,
These?
He would glance down as though surprised to find himself wearing them.
Just something I picked up in India.
The sentence was delivered with studied casualness.
It generally required several months of rehearsal.
Within a fortnight,
His friends would have a pair.
Within a year,
They would be recommending a particular tailor.
Within two years,
They would be explaining to newcomers that pajamas had become absolutely indispensable.
History moves surprisingly quickly.
Once wealthy people decide something looks respectable.
Department stores noticed almost immediately.
This was hardly surprising.
Department stores have always possessed an extraordinary ability to identify objects that nobody realized they desperately needed until they walked past a window display.
A gentleman who entered intending to purchase handkerchiefs might leave with a dressing gown,
Slippers,
Three pairs of pyjamas,
And a growing suspicion that his current bedroom was no longer fashionable.
He would return home having spent considerably more than intended.
Some traditions are timeless.
Advertisements soon appeared promising elegance,
Refinement,
And the perfect night's sleep.
This was optimistic.
Pyjamas could do many things.
They could not prevent one's neighbour from beginning to play the violin at half past six in the morning.
Nor could they persuade a baby to sleep.
Manufacturers occasionally hinted otherwise.
As demand increased,
The range became ever more elaborate.
There were summer pajamas.
Winter Pyjamas cotton pyjamas.
Flannel pyjamas.
Silk pajamas.
For a gentleman who wished to look prosperous.
While unconscious.
One cannot help admiring the confidence.
Very few people are awake long enough to appreciate luxury sleepwear.
The ideal outcome is that nobody appreciates it for several hours.
Nevertheless.
Expensive pajamas sold remarkably well.
The Victorians had discovered an important truth.
If an ordinary object could be made slightly more luxurious,
Somebody would buy it.
If it could be made considerably more luxurious.
Somebody else's neighbor would buy it.
Meanwhile.
The Humble Indian Tailor from whom this whole story had quietly begun.
Would probably have found the entire spectacle rather puzzling.
He had made a comfortable pair of trousers.
That was all.
He had not intended to launch an international fashion movement.
He certainly had not intended it.
For gentlemen in London to spend twenty minutes.
Discussing whether navy blue piping looked more distinguished than burgundy.
History,
However,
Has a habit of rewarding simplicity in the most complicated ways.
A practical idea born beneath the heat of the Indian sun had crossed continents,
Survived ocean voyages.
Impressed an empire.
And somehow ended up in the wardrobe of a barrister from Surrey.
Would spend the next forty years insisting he had discovered them before everyone else.
He almost certainly hadn't,
But it helped him sleep better,
Believing that he had.
Part 8 in which pyjamas leave the bedroom and cause mild alarm.
By the closing years of the 19th century.
Pyjamas had largely won their battle against the nightshirt amongst Britain's wealthier gentlemen.
This was not because the nightshirt had suddenly become unpopular.
On the contrary,
It continued to serve millions of perfectly respectable sleepers.
It simply found itself confronted by a younger rival that possessed the deeply unfair advantage of allowing one to walk downstairs without looking as though one had accidentally forgotten the lower half of one's wardrobe.
The 20th century,
However,
Had little interest in leaving good ideas alone.
As the new century dawned.
Britain was changing.
Railways connected the country as never before.
Department stores grew larger.
Ready-made clothing became increasingly affordable,
Meaning that garments once associated with the wealthy gradually found their way into middle-class homes.
Pyjamas benefited enormously from this quiet revolution.
They no longer belonged exclusively to retired colonels,
Reminiscing about India over breakfast.
Schoolmasters owned them.
Solicitors owned them.
Doctors owned them.
One suspects even accountants eventually relaxed enough to purchase a pair,
Although they probably kept the receipt.
Mail order catalogues helped considerably.
Families living many miles from London's fashionable outfitters could now order the latest sleepwear without travelling any further than the front gate.
The catalogue became one of the great achievements of modern civilisation.
It allowed perfectly sensible people to spend money they had not intended to spend on items they had not known existed ten minutes earlier.
The pages devoted to sleepwear grew steadily larger.
This is generally considered a reliable sign.
That something is becoming fashionable.
Manufacturers competed enthusiastically for attention.
One promised superior Egyptian cotton.
Another guaranteed exceptional softness.
A third confidently declared its pyjamas to be scientifically designed for comfort.
Historians have been unable to establish precisely which brand of science was responsible for this breakthrough.
Although one imagines several distinguished professors.
Standing around a gentleman taking a nap.
Remarkable.
He appears comfortable.
Write that down.
Meanwhile.
.
.
Improvements in textile manufacturing.
Meant that cotton fabrics could be woven more consistently and in greater quantities than ever before.
Mills in Lancashire.
Were producing enormous volumes of cloth,
Much of it from cotton grown throughout the empire,
Including India itself.
There is a certain historical irony in this.
The trousers had begun their journey.
In the Indian subcontinent.
Travelled to Britain.
Being enthusiastically redesigned by Victorian tailors.
And we're now.
In many cases.
Being manufactured from Indian cotton.
Before being sold back to British customers.
History.
Occasionally enjoys traveling in circles.
Pyjamas themselves,
One suspects.
Remained blissfully unaware of these commercial developments.
They had started life as straightforward drawstring trousers.
They found themselves featured in elegant shop windows,
Beneath polished brass lumps,
Folded with almost ceremonial precision.
It must have been rather bewildering.
Answer.
Almost unnoticed.
Pajamas completed another stage.
Of their remarkable journey.
They were no longer a curiosity from India.
Nor merely a fashionable novelty for adventurous gentlemen.
They had become an ordinary part of everyday British life.
The truly extraordinary thing.
Was not that people had begun wearing pyjamas.
It was that.
After several thousand years of sleeping perfectly happily without them.
People.
We're now beginning to wonder.
How anyone had ever managed.
Part nine.
In which Hollywood discovers That even sleep can be glamorous.
By the 1920s.
Pyjamas had settled comfortably into British life.
They had achieved that rare distinction.
Enjoyed by only the most successful inventions.
Nobody talked about them very much anymore.
The wheel had experienced something similar.
One rarely hears a conversation begin.
You'll never guess what I saw today.
A wheel.
Pyjamas had reached the same happy state of quiet acceptance.
Then.
America happened.
The United States had entered the 20th century.
With enormous enthusiasm.
And very little intention of doing anything by halves.
Cities grew upwards.
Cars became faster.
Jazz became louder.
And before long.
The motion picture industry.
Began convincing millions of people.
That ordinary life.
Ought to be considerably more stylish than it had previously been.
This proved exhausting for everyone else.
The center of this new universe.
Was Hollywood.
By the 1930s.
Film stars were no longer simply actors.
They had become examples.
If a famous actor parted his hair differently,
Thousands followed.
Of a leading lady.
Wore a particular dress?
Department stores.
Immediately began producing something almost but not quite identical.
The difference was usually about $20.
Pyjamas soon found themselves caught up in this unlikely promotion.
They had spent thousands of years.
Quietly minding their own business.
They were appearing on cinema screens.
Not the original drawstring trousers,
Of course.
Hollywood looked at those with genuine admiration.
Before asking whether they might benefit from Saturn.
Hollywood asked this question about almost everything.
The answer was almost always yes.
Silk pajamas became the height of sophistication.
Leading men.
Wandered effortlessly around enormous bedrooms,
Overlooking imaginary gardens,
Wearing garments so perfectly pressed that one suspected they had never actually slept in them.
This was probably true.
It is difficult to wake looking as immaculate as a Hollywood actor.
Many have tried.
Most end up looking as though they have spent the night negotiating with a head.
Audiences loved it.
Not because they genuinely believed everyone should sleep in embroidered silk.
Although some undoubtedly did.
They loved the idea that bedtime could possess a certain elegance.
It was a curious thought.
For thousands of years.
The principal ambition of bedtime had been simply to arrive.
Now it was expected to arrive fashionably.
The department stores were delighted.
If Hollywood suggested a gentleman required silk pyjamas.
Then silk pyjamas appeared in the catalogue.
If Hollywood suggested.
A gentleman required.
Two pairs.
That sounded entirely reasonable.
One pair,
After all,
Might become tired.
Advertising entered what historians might describe as a particularly confident period.
Pyjamas were no longer merely comfortable.
They were refined.
Distinguished.
Martin.
One advertisement suggested that the correct sleepwear reflected a gentleman's character.
This placed an unfortunate amount of responsibility upon a pair of trousers,
One wonders what the wrong pyjamas said about a person.
Perhaps.
He tried his best.
Meanwhile.
Back in Britain.
Ordinary families continued buying sturdy cotton pyjamas that were expected to survive years of washing,
Mending.
And being handed down to younger brothers.
Who had absolutely no interest in receiving them.
There is a quiet honesty about everyday pyjamas.
They have no desire to appear in films.
They simply wish to survive another Tuesday.
In many ways.
They deserve considerably more recognition.
Than they receive.
After all.
While Hollywood was busy convincing audiences.
That everyone should sleep in luxurious silk.
Millions of ordinary pyjamas.
Were getting on with the job for which they had always been intended.
Comfort.
It is not the most glamorous word in the English language.
It is,
However.
One of the most useful.
Somewhere.
One imagines.
The original inventor of the drawstring.
Looked down upon the whole affair.
With quiet satisfaction.
Or perhaps mild confusion.
He had merely invented a comfortable pair of trousers.
He could hardly be blamed for what Hollywood did next.
Part 10.
In which the world goes to war.
But pyjamas quietly carry on.
The year was 1939.
This was.
.
.
Historians generally agree.
Not an especially relaxing time to be alive the Second World War.
Would touch almost every aspect of daily life.
Food was rationed.
Petrol was rationed.
Clothing was rationed.
Holidays became rather less frequent.
Even the simple act of putting the kettle on.
Occasionally required more planning than anyone would have preferred.
Remarkably.
Pyjamas carried on.
Not heroically.
Pajamas are not by nature.
Heroic.
They simply continued doing what they had always done.
Waiting patiently until bedtime.
In Britain,
Clothing rationing was introduced in June 1941.
Every citizen received a clothing book.
Containing coupons.
Shirts required coupons.
Dresses required coupons.
Socks required coupons.
A new suit.
Required rather a lot of coupons.
One rather imagines the coupons themselves became quite self-important.
Without me.
One might have whispered from inside a gentleman's wallet.
You'll be wearing that jacket for another year.
It was probably right.
The government encouraged people to buy fewer garments.
Repair what they already owned.
And waste as little fabric as possible.
The slogan.
Make do and mend.
Became part of everyday life.
Trousers were punched.
Sleeves were shortened.
Buttons were rescued from garments that had long since accepted retirement.
Buttons have always enjoyed surprisingly secure employment.
Entire shirts disappeared.
The buttons somehow survived.
Pyjamas were no exception.
A perfectly respectable pair might begin life belonging to the father of the household.
Spend several years in faithful service.
Before becoming.
Work pajamas.
Then find themselves shortened slightly for an older son.
Before finally ending their career as polishing cloths in the garage.
It was an honorable retirement.
But not every garment was so fortunate.
Manufacturers also had to adapt.
Less fabric meant simpler designs.
Decorative details quietly disappeared.
There was little appetite for elaborate embroidery.
When the nation was rather more concerned with ships in the Atlantic and aircraft over Europe.
History.
As a curious way of deciding what really matters.
Hyping,
It turned out,
Could wait.
Comfort,
However.
Could not.
After long days in factories,
On farms,
In offices and,
For many,
In military service.
Returning home and changing into pyjamas remained one of life's smaller pleasures.
Nobody wrote great speeches about it.
Newspapers rarely reported it.
Yet one suspects millions quietly appreciated the familiar routine.
There is something reassuring about ordinary habits,
Surviving extraordinary times.
The kettle still boiled.
Children still argued about bedtime.
Someone,
Somewhere.
Was still insisting they weren't tired.
Despite yawning so enthusiastically,
They almost swallowed the evening.
Human nature remained reassuringly consistent.
Children's pyjamas also became increasingly common during these years.
Manufacturers.
Had been producing them for decades.
But the 20th century saw dedicated sleepwear for children become much more widespread.
Practicality usually won the argument.
Mother's appreciated garments.
That stayed where they were supposed to stay.
Children.
Appreciated almost anything that delayed being told to hurry up.
This rarely works.
Bedtime has never negotiated particularly well.
One suspects every generation of parents.
Has spoken exactly the same sentence.
It's time for bed.
Equally.
Every generation of children.
Has produced exactly the same reply.
I'm not tired.
The evidence to the contrary.
Was frequently visible.
From several rooms away.
By 1945,
The war was finally drawing to a close.
Britain emerged victorious.
Exhausted and facing the enormous task of rebuilding.
Closing rationing,
However.
Did not disappear overnight.
In fact,
It continued until 1949.
Much to the disappointment of people who had imagined peace.
Might also mean buying a new jumper.
Without consulting a booklet.
History occasionally takes its time.
Gradually the coupons vanished.
Shops filled once more.
Choice returned.
Fabrics improved.
Colors reappeared.
Some pyjamas had served with remarkable distinction.
They had survived years of washing,
Mending,
Younger brothers,
And enthusiastic family dogs.
Experts believe that many of these pyjamas eventually wore out.
This is widely regarded.
As one of history's less controversial conclusions.
And sew the humble pyjama.
Entered the 1950s.
Having achieved something rather extraordinary.
It was no longer an exotic curiosity from India,
Nor a fashionable novelty for wealthy Victorian gentlemen.
It had become something far more impressive.
It had become ordinary.
Part 11.
In which pyjamas become increasingly colourful,
Slightly ridiculous,
And unexpectedly festive.
By the 1950s,
Britain was beginning to breathe again.
The war was over,
Shops were filling with new fabrics,
And manufacturers were once again free to think about something they had been forced to neglect for almost a decade.
Color.
This was greeted with rather more enthusiasm.
Than perhaps it deserves.
The post-war years witnessed an explosion of patterns,
Prints and fabrics.
Stripes became bolder.
Checks became larger.
Bright colours appeared with an optimism,
Suggesting that nobody intended to spend another winter wearing sensible shades of brown.
If they could possibly avoid it.
Some manufacturers became a little over-excited.
History rarely names the individual responsible for particularly loud pyjamas.
Perhaps that is for the best.
Families,
Meanwhile,
Were changing.
Television sets began appearing in living rooms across Britain during the 1950s.
By the time Queen Elizabeth II's coronation.
Was broadcast in 1953.
Thousands upon thousands of families had gathered around these curious wooden boxes to watch history unfold.
Many did so.
Wearing pyjamas.
It is somehow fitting that one of the most important broadcasts in British history was viewed by a nation that had quietly changed into its most comfortable clothing first.
Television.
Also introduced something entirely new.
Advertising.
Manufacturers no longer had to rely upon shop windows.
And newspaper illustrations.
They could now demonstrate.
With remarkable confidence.
Exactly how much happier one's evenings would become after purchasing a particular pair of pyjamas.
Advertising has always possessed an unusually optimistic view of trousers.
According to the catalogues.
The correct pyjamas would improve one's sleep quality.
One's comfort.
One's appearance.
End.
On one memorable occasion.
One's outlook on life.
This seemed an ambitious amount to ask from Cotton.
Department stores expanded their sleepwear departments accordingly.
Wool remained popular during colder months.
Cotton continued to dominate everyday sleepwear.
And new synthetic fibres such as nylon.
And later polyester.
Began appearing in garments throughout the 1950s and 1960s.
These modern materials were praised for being easy to wash,
Quick to dry,
And wonderfully practical.
They were.
They were also occasionally capable of generating enough static electricity to suggest the wearer had spent the evening arguing with a thunderstorm.
Progress is rarely perfect.
Children's pyjamas underwent perhaps the most dramatic transformation of all.
Sleepwear was no longer expected merely to be practical.
It was expected to be entertaining.
Storybook characters appeared.
Cowboys appeared.
Rockets appeared.
Animals appeared in astonishing numbers.
Somewhere one suspects.
A perfectly reasonable pair of plain blue pyjamas looked across the department store and quietly wondered when bedtime had become quite so competitive.
Licensed characters soon followed.
Children's television programs discovered that if a young viewer admired a particular hero at seven o'clock in the evening,
There was every chance they might wish to wear that same hero.
To bed at night.
This proved remarkably profitable.
One generation fell asleep wearing cowboys.
The next preferred astronauts.
Then came superheroes.
Occasionally dinosaurs.
History has not yet explained why dinosaurs became associated with bedtime.
They seem singularly unsuitable.
The average Tyrannosaurus rex gives every impression of somebody who ought to remain awake.
Parents,
Of course,
Remained largely unmoved by these developments.
They were invested in only three questions.
Would they survive repeated washing?
Would they still fit next year?
Could they somehow survive being handed down to a younger sibling?
The answer to the third question was usually yes.
Younger brothers and sisters of inherited pajamas for generations.
With varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Every family appears to have possessed at least one pair.
That had been passed down so many times that nobody could quite remember.
Who had originally owned them.
Their history.
Was lost.
They're elastic,
Meanwhile.
Had begun making similar plans.
By the 1970s.
Another curious phenomenon had begun to emerge.
People were spending rather more time wearing pajamas before actually going to bed.
Evening Television.
Become an established part of family life.
It was perfectly normal.
To change into pyjamas.
Make a cup of tea.
And settle down to watch a favourite programme.
One could argue.
That Pyjamas had quietly extended their working hours Originally they had been employed only for sleeping.
Now they were expected to assist with quiz shows,
Nature documentaries,
And the occasional detective drama.
They accepted these additional responsibilities.
With admirable professionalism.
The final decades of the 20th century.
Also witnessed the arrival of novelty pyjamas.
These deserve a brief moment of historical reflection.
For thousands of years.
Humanity had pursued comfort with admirable determination.
Indian tailors had perfected simple drawstring trousers.
Victorian Gentleman.
Had embraced practical sleepwear.
Generations of manufacturers.
Had refined fabrics and improved stitching.
Then someone looked at all this accumulated wisdom and thought,
You know what these need.
A large smiling penguin.
The idea.
Was astonishingly successful.
Before long there were reindeer pajamas.
Football pyjamas.
Racing car pajamas.
Christmas pyjamas.
Striped pyjamas.
Spotted pyjamas.
And pajamas carrying messages that were considerably funnier in the design meeting than they proved to be at breakfast.
Part 12 in which humanity finally perfects pajamas.
Then immediately begins wearing them to the supermarket.
By the beginning of the 21st century.
Humanity had finally done it.
After thousands of years of sleeping in animal skins.
Rough wool.
Long shirts.
Improvised garments.
And anything else that happened to be lying within arm's reach.
We are perfected.
Pyjamas.
They were softer than ever before.
Lighter than ever before.
Warmer when they need it to be.
Cooler when they need it to be.
Some promised to keep you warm throughout the winter.
Other is promised to keep you cool throughout the summer.
Were pyjamas made from Egyptian cotton,
Brushed cotton,
Bamboo fibres,
Silk,
Fleece,
And fabrics whose descriptions became so technical that one began to suspect they had been developed by the aerospace industry.
One catalogue proudly described its latest range as engineered for ultimate sleep performance.
One sincerely hopes somebody received promotion for writing that.
It is,
After all,
Difficult to imagine a pair of pyjamas approaching bedtime with the determination of an Olympic athlete.
Manufacturers became wonderfully ambitious.
There were anti-wrinkle pyjamas,
Moisture-wicking pyjamas.
Hypoallergenic pajamas.
Luxury Pyjamas designer pajamas.
Pyjamas costing several hundred pounds.
One cannot help wondering whether they also climbed into bed on your behalf.
If not.
One feels they could perhaps have tried harder.
After all.
They had already spent several thousand years improving themselves.
History,
It seemed.
Had finally reached its destination.
The humble Indian drawstring trousers.
Had travelled across continents.
Survived Empires.
Outlived the nightshirt,
Endured the Victorians,
Weathered two world wars,
And somehow managed as one of the most successful garments ever created.
There was surely nowhere else for this story to go.
History,
However.
At one final surprise.
People stopped keeping pajamas indoors.
Nobody knows precisely who went first.
This is deeply disappointing.
For once history fails to provide us with a name.
One imagines the moment took place.
On a perfectly ordinary Saturday morning.
A gentleman stands by the front door.
He looks down at his pyjamas.
He looks at the car keys.
He remembers the family has run out of milk.
It'll only be five minutes.
There are certain sentences that have changed history.
To die is curse.
One small step for man.
I'll only be five minutes.
He leaves the house.
Nothing happens.
The world does not end.
Nobody faints.
Nobody points dramatically into the street,
Shouting.
He's wearing bedtime trousers.
Instead.
He buys milk.
Perhaps a loaf of bread?
Possibly a newspaper.
He returns home.
The experiment has been a complete success.
The following weekend.
Somebody else tries it.
Within a remarkably short space of time.
Pyjamas of escape.
There they are.
In supermarkets.
Waiting patiently in queues.
Inspecting avocados with surprising authority.
Comparing breakfast cereals.
Carefully reading the ingredients on a jar of pasta sauce.
As though this had always been part of their intended purpose.
One imagines the original Indian tailor watching this development with growing confusion.
I made comfortable trousers.
He says quietly.
I don't remember saying anything about frozen peas.
Nor to deanticipate.
Self-service checkouts.
Or loyalty cards.
Or the curious modern habit of standing in the middle of the supermarket.
Wondering why one had gone there in the first place.
So,
Pajamas have wandered through Mesopotamia and Egypt,
Travelled to the Indian subcontinent,
Wear a simple pair of drawstring trousers.
Quietly began one of history's most remarkable journeys.
And ended up in the fruit and vegetable aisle.
Not bad,
For a pair of trousers.
Thank you for joining me.
Humorously dull history of pyjamas.
And should you happen to visit the supermarket tomorrow.
You may find yourself.
Looking around.
With a new appreciation for just how far pajamas have travelled.
