Nope, can’t wear the footed pajamas.
Couple big issues here.
First, I can see exactly where this is headed. Once it’s okay to wear them AT ALL it’s a smaller leap to wear them outside the home. Just real quick, to grab something out of my car. Maybe get the mail. Pretty soon you figure you can throw on a coat and go through the Wendy’s drive-thru. Who’s going to know?
Before long you’re wearing them to doctor appointments, sitting in the waiting room and trying to remember if you bothered to wear underpants.
Also, they would be a tempting under-clothing motorcycling option. However, the humiliation of getting in an accident and having paramedics cut you out of footie pajamas…I would hope they would just heed the Do Not Resuscitate lettering I had put on the trap door.
And that’s another thing, the trap door. Look at this.
Not cool. Not hot. I like a revealed butt as much as the next man, assuming that the next man likes them so much that he risks his friendships, relationships, and every aspect of his lifestyle to look at them. But the context matters. I wouldn’t really want to see a butt with a log of shit coming out of it. This is sort of like a butt with a log of shit AROUND it.
If this scene, as created for the catalogue, were played out in my apartment, I would have to excuse myself due to extreme nausea and have to spend the next hour spitting pre-vomit drool into the sink.
No, 2011 is not the year for footie pajamas.