by Grace Roberts

Though the magic of matching sets and luxury loungewear made a comeback in light of society’s collective Year of Rest and (questionable) Relaxation in 2020, pyjamas remain generally frowned upon as a form of public attire. Why is this? How can we reverse it? It’s winter now, and long gone are the days of dressing fashionably — the more obscured your body is beneath sweaters and scarves the better, right? The answer to all of these questions lies in the 90s romcom While You Were Sleeping, a movie less about romance and more about the merits of sleepwear. Following the trope of “small misunderstanding quickly escalates with humorous and disastrous results,” a category we all know and love, the entire movie is essentially a mood board for cosy, wintry wear, in which a love story plays a minor role. The real love story is between Sandra Bullock and sweaters, which, let’s be honest, is far more interesting, so let’s get back in bed and take a look at the various moods and wardrobe inspiration invoked by this classic.

As you will soon learn, Sandra Bullock’s character exists in a perpetual wardrobe of sleepwear, ready to fall into a coma like her fake lover Peter at any given moment. This woman has the most wonderful wardrobe of sweaters I have ever seen on screen, and she pulls off the effortless, slightly dishevelled look with ease and grace. She is the epitome of “messy-girl chic” - something comfortable, low-maintenance women everywhere aspire to be. She is the peak of home wear fashion. Her coats inspire me; I want to be her. You will too if you watch this movie. You might also feel inclined to recess into hibernation, and in all honesty, I think that is exactly what director Jon Turteltaub would want.

Though not technically trademarked as a Christmas movie, like all good romcoms it spans the festive months. The design is wonderful; scenes of shoppers and city folk dressed to the nines in trenches and scarves, shots of mittens grasping various street vendor food, and plaza Christmas trees galore. The opening sequence and title card- the font, the subdued grey-blue hues of the Chicago skyline, that grainy and vintage aesthetic- all invoke a sense of chilly calm, a nostalgic longing for merrymaking. Plus, I am required by law to worship any movie whose soundtrack includes “This Will Be (An Everlasting Love).” As for the rest of the soundtrack, jazzy riffs provide the perfect accompaniment and invoke the three muses: charm, cheer, and cashmere.

For some context, the main character in this journey through sleep is Lucy, a hopelessly romantic transit worker who leads a solitary life falling in love with strangers and always layering at least four different kinds of outerwear. Lucy’s natural state of existence appears to be “in some form of pyjamas.” At multiple times throughout the movie, she is wearing sweaters so large and layers so lovely that it is actually impossible to make out any sort of human shape, and she simply becomes a blanket. Unfortunately, she is lonely, but boy is she comfy, a sacrifice she manages to convince the audience is entirely worth it.

Right off the bat, Lucy showcases the most luxuriously oversized sweater you may have ever laid eyes on; she manages to actually produce Christmas gifts from the depths of her sleeve, so she’s clearly experienced in the various uses of a good XXXL. This is not her first rodeo – she is well versed in the language of cosiness, of snug-factor. She is quite literally drowning in this sweater and could not be happier about it, and her landlord’s son is clearly enthralled by this fashion choice as well because he pursues her for the remainder of the movie. I feel strongly that the director is trying to tell us that it was a direct result of seeing her in that sweater. Ladies, take notes.

Lucy is living in Chicago, so it makes sense; the gloom and frigid temperatures of the city make layering an intrinsic personality trait. The fact that it has to be at least minus fifteen degrees in the city is a major plot point; forget the love story because it is c-o-l-d in Chicago. One such day, Christmas day to be exact, temperatures are low but the drama is high, as the beautiful stranger Lucy’s been lowkey creeping on is pushed onto the train tracks and she and her oversized fisherman sweater have to save him. Of course, this gorgeous man, Peter, falls into a coma and when Lucy wakes up from her nap by his bedside, she accidentally establishes herself as his fiancée. She manages to make sleeping in a hospital chair appear romantic and desirable, again contributing to the thesis of this movie; you too, can manifest good sleep and a beautiful boyfriend so long as you don an excessive amount of woolen-wear.

Though the backbone of this movie is Peter’s never-ending slumber, every other character also establishes their invaluable relationship with sleep and chunky knitwear. Glynis Jones, who plays Peter’s grandma, comments “You’re like me, I could always sleep anywhere” to Lucy, essentially providing the movie’s main axiom. Lucy manages to fall asleep on the family couch, wearing what we can only assume to be her outfit from dinner earlier, a crochet top of some sort, further solidifying the fact that literally every outfit she wears also doubles as pyjamas. Lucy is prepared to descend into dormancy at any moment, regardless of time, place, or attire. Pajamas are not only a staple in her wardrobe, but also a way of life for her, and I can only say that if everyone adopted this attitude, society would heal itself.

There are artfully directed shots of her bed, of dim lights and sleepy city evenings, and I am convinced the director was just crafting a movie that has the same effect as Thanksgiving turkey — this movie is laced with L-Tryptophan. When things begin to get even more complicated as Lucy begins to fall in love with Peter’s very awake brother, we spend a lot of time at a skating rink in the city at, you guessed it, nighttime. There is snow, there is ice, and there is Lucy always appropriately dressed in various loungewear items. The poor girl is just on a quest for rest, but these boys have her losing precious sleep.

Lucy’s wool coat is practically the main character, and we have some moody shots of her waiting for a train and picking up a hot dog that showcase this magnificence in all its glory. She manages to stuff a cable-knit under this staple piece, and doesn’t stop there — a hat, mittens, and scarf are layered on for maximum comfort and cosiness, and though she kind of looks like she could be camping out in the Arctic circle, this movie is not about sex appeal, people! It is instead about how comfortable one can possibly be, and the fact that multiple men are pining over a girl who wears so many layers it is often hard to tell where she begins and ends says enough. Sandra Bullock is making loungewear attractive again, and I’m here for it — we have collectively regressed to the point of fashion over comfort, and this is a terrible and critical error that we must do our best to undo.

Many of the other characters in this movie do not share the same sentiment towards loungewear as Lucy, which is tragic. Bobby Jr? Fitted tees throughout. Probably the reason Lucy doesn’t want to date him. Her landlord, her coworkers at the train station, Peter’s family — none of them seem to have the appropriate affinity for proper winter wear, and you know what? It seriously affects their character development. And as for Jack... He thinks wearing a jacket in the middle of a Chicago winter is sufficient. Though he does not share the same fondness for sleepwear that Lucy does, he clearly appreciates hers, so we’ll let it slide because he’s sweet, caring, and played by Bill Pullman. Plus, his role in Sleepless in Seattle, another member of the sleepwear movie universe, gives him a pass.

At one point, after Peter wakes from his slumber and finds himself unwittingly engaged, he proceeds to wear actual pyjamas under a suit jacket to his wedding. This is, in my opinion, the single greatest shot in the entire movie. They're the good kind as well, proper, Sleepy Jones-esque pyjamas. My dream man, too, would rock up to our wedding dressed in full sleeping attire, but despite Peter’s pyjamas, Lucy ends up confessing her love for his non-loungewear-clad brother Jack at the altar, and they live happily ever after. Truly a whirlwind of a plot, but is the marriage between two people who have only known each other for two weeks really that foreign a concept in the romcom world? I was a little disappointed that this movie did not end with Jack and Lucy in pyjamas dozing off by a Christmas tree, but the sentiment was there all the same.

As a personal advocate for sleepwear as outerwear, Lucy is making this a reality, and I believe we should all follow her lead in making pyjamas a socially acceptable form of clothing to leave the house in. One could assess this as a movie about the joys of public transportation, or one could say it occupies a firm position as a classic romcom. But the correct answer, as I have clearly laid out before you, is that this is a movie about the value of pyjamas and the luxury of sleep. So, with that being said, go get back in bed (and just submit the essay extension for this purpose, I know you were already thinking about it) and count sheep, or rather, count the sweaters their wool is going to yield.

All photos from this article have been taken directly from While You Were Sleeping (Buena Vista Pictures, 1995).