He Adopted That Cool, Just-Got-Out- of-Bed Look

Parents, are you hopelessly out of style? Do your kids make fun of you because you never go to work looking like you just rolled out of bed? Would you love to be a virtual fashion slave but don’t know how?

Here’s some sound sartorial advice: Start wearing pajamas in public. Or, more specifically, pajama bottoms.

This is the latest appalling but extremely popular fashion trend among teenagers, who are, of course, the future leaders of this great country.

I became aware of this alarming development one morning a few weeks ago when I noticed that one of my daughters, who had to leave for school in about five minutes, was still wearing her pajamas.

“Aren’t you going to get ready for school?” I asked innocently.

“I am ready,” she responded.

“But you’re not dressed,” I said.

“Yes, I am,” she replied.

“You’re wearing pajama bottoms,” I pointed out.

“Dad! Everybody wears them,” explained my daughter, who was also wearing a sweatshirt and hiking boots. Then, dismayed but really not surprised that I could be so pathetically out of touch, she picked up her backpack, kissed me on my obviously empty head and left for school.

Since then, I have noticed more and more kids--on school grounds, at the store, even in a ski lodge--walking around in pajama bottoms.

And I have learned some important fashion rules. For example, pajama bottoms must be flannel and they must be plaid or they are not considered “cool.”

Also, your shirt--sweatshirt, T-shirt, casual shirt--should never be tucked in. Instead, it must hang over the waist of your pajama bottoms for that stylishly disheveled look.

And, if you wear a coat or a jacket, it should be short enough to show off your shirttails.

With this in mind, I recently decided, as a proud and utterly confused parent, to make a fashion statement of my own. That statement was: “I look like a dork!”

That’s because I dressed up, for one day and one day only, like a teenager.

In addition to plaid flannel pajama bottoms, I wore a denim shirt (which hung over the PJs, of course), white socks, sneakers, a short outer jacket and, because I am a professional, a tie.

This greatly impressed my daughters, both of whom frequently wear pajamas to school.

“You’ll be a virtual fashion slave!” gushed Katie, a sophomore in high school.

“You’re so cool!” exclaimed Lauren, an eighth-grader.

My wife, who works at an elementary school, said: “I’m glad I’m not going to be seen with you.”

As I headed out the door, I noticed something a lot of adults never think about: Pajama bottoms don’t have pockets, which means if you go out in them, you have to put your wallet, car keys, spare change and handkerchief somewhere else. I stuffed them all in my jacket.

Then I went to the bank, where Lisa the teller, trying hard to concentrate on my meager transaction, took one look at me and said: “Are you going to work like that?”

“Yes,” I answered. “But first I have to go to the post office.”

When I got there, I walked up to the first window and bought a book of stamps from Huber the postal worker, who nodded approvingly at my fashionable attire and said: “I’ll definitely invite you to my pajama party!”

Then I went to work, where Al the security guard, who probably had second thoughts about letting me into the building, seemed slightly unnerved.

“That’s the new style?” he said. “I wouldn’t wear it.”

Upstairs, my jammies elicited plenty of comments.

“I thought those were golf pants,” said a co-worker.

Another colleague called them “a true statement.” She didn’t elaborate.

The former fashion editor said: “You look really cute.” I was flattered until I remembered she’s not the fashion editor anymore.

Fortunately, the big boss never saw me.

When I got home, my daughters said they were really proud of me and asked if I would ever wear pajamas to work again.

Frankly, I don’t know. But I will say this: If you’re going to sleep on the job, you might as well dress for it.