Lifestyle
The benefits of dressing up to stay in — and why they outweigh dressing up to go out
I only sleep in silk. It’s a bit of a dirty secret.
This isn’t the type of thing you want to admit to a friend, much less a stranger. It’s undemocratic. Polyester isn’t good enough for you? Rayon, viscose, all the leaps and bounds made in synthetics — don’t you believe in science?
Fine silk runs through the fingers like soft water. It drapes without hiding your lines or curves — but can, if woven with enough heft, still deliver on structure. In the right color, it is impervious to sweat. With a little Woolite — and the stomach to ignore the tsk-tsk of “dry clean only” — it’ll survive a hundred washings. Silk comforts and cocoons, so light it practically hovers. I sleep in silk. I cook in silk. I clean in silk. I live in silk — it’s all I wear when I’m at home. (And, often, an apron.) Why dress up to go out when you can dress to stay in?
Pamela wears Versace briefs and robe , Justine Clenquet earrings and necklace.
Louis Vuitton pajamas, Justine Clenquet earrings.
Like many immigrant families, the one I grew up in drew a hard line between inside clothes and outside clothes. (Or maybe it’s not about hyphens but just having some manners; as Phoebe Robinson says, “Please Don’t Sit on My Bed in Your Outside Clothes.”) Outside, the world is covered in dog s—. Plus a good deal of pollen that will have me up all night hacking. Inside, my bare feet walk on the qilim my mother “lent” me 15 years ago, and the air’s laced with cardamom from my decaf-black virgin nightcap. Inside, there’s a candle burning and a ban on overhead lighting. Inside, one rule reigns: respect the sanctity of Inside.
Pajamas, you see, aren’t just for sleeping. They’re inside clothes. This is a lesson the pandemic brought home to everyone, but for some of us it’s always been so.
The word “pajama” stems from Persian/Farsi, as I learned in my medieval Persian seminar in college after a life of speaking Farsi at home but somehow never registering the echo of this particular cognate. A compound of “pay,” or leg, and “jāma,” cloth (as in, clothes), the term first traveled to India via the Mughals, who spoke Persian at court. We’re talking the 1500s. A few centuries later — as a Dolce & Gabbana blog post on “the pyjama” also so kindly explains — the word, and corresponding style of loose pants coupled with a matching top, then went West via the Raj: colonial Brits stole the breezy unisex look from their subjects. In short, as an Iranian, I come from a long uninterrupted line of pajamas. Though probably in cotton.
When I was a kid, I also had a few nightgowns. My favorite my mother had sewn for me. Puff sleeves, peach and brown stripes. Memorialized, these days, in a snapshot of me and my childhood best friend on her family’s pullout couch, Nick at Nite on the TV.
Historically, nightgowns, opposite from pajamas, traveled from West to East. And they didn’t start out femme — in medieval Europe, men and women alike retired for the night in long, loose shirts. Today nightgowns are pretty much dead. But there was a time when Dior could dress you so good in lace and pastels it’d make you want to wear makeup to bed. Now few luxury brands bother, including Dior. (Albeit the occasional exception, like this truly wild floor-length, rhinestone-encrusted sheer getup by Dolce & Gabbana.) Probably for the same reason, I no longer have any nightgowns. First Wave feminism-slash-medieval Muslim culture has finally crashed on the shores of fashion, and women wear pants. Dresses can be restrictive. I like to lounge with one leg up.
Since those childhood days of puffs sleeves past, I’ve accrued a small collection of adult pajama sets. Window-shopping for my next set, I come back across the garment’s colonial lineage. A matching set by Dior — clearly I’m dreaming — features a generic jungle scene as the house’s take on Toile de Jouy (i.e., fussy French pastoral). Prints of “exotic” flora and fauna have become such a mainstay of luxury pajamas (see: Olivia von Halle) that we don’t even notice the history behind them. I’m not calling for a boycott, but every now and then, I like to see how the sausage gets made.
Inside you are your main audience. The joy lies in the freedom. Be extra. Go bold.
Me, I like it simple. But always in silk.
Pamela wears Agent Provocateur lingerie, Wolford stockings.
Vivienne Westwood phone purse.
My first set of silk pajamas came relatively late in life. Christmas in Fort Greene, my mid-20s. It was snowing. The kind of snow that feels like the first snow even when it isn’t, those light bright flakes that hang in the air so mournfully and beautifully you’d think you were on set for the holiday special except you can feel them melting on your chapped lips. There were so many firsts that year. My first apartment shared by an “us” that wasn’t simply financial, wasn’t me and a roommate. My first — in the form of our first — Christmas tree. (I didn’t grow up celebrating.) And, surely just as momentous, my first foray into pure silk.
Black silk with black piping. Fat black buttons, curved lapels. Long sleeves, long pants. Men’s. We’d gone Christmas shopping in the snow at the Brooklyn flea. When the scrawny guy draped over a folding chair across the stall saw me thumbing the package, he assured me that all his “girlfriends” wore them in an S, as if I needed an excuse to shop menswear and women only came in one size. He quoted 50 dollars for the set, a price that seemed at once fair and substantial. Back in the apartment that night, too lazy to iron out folds creased by time, I let more time and the wet heat of my body shake out the fabric.
Going silk is like what I imagine it felt like to step into the ’70s and burn (i.e., toss) your bras — there’s no way back. Now I have silk for every season — just a piece or two. Princesse tam tam cami and shorts in cherry red — not the skin but the flesh, which is redder. Another Princesse tam tam cami (black, bustle button detail) whose matching bottom I spent hours searching for in vain (such are sales). Thrifted and gifted to my beau before I took it back, a silk men’s tee by Cos big enough to serve as a micro-dress. Actually gifted to myself for a pandemic birthday, a classic Sleeper set in high-shine satin, the color an indulgence in itself: cream, as in farm-fresh and organic. And, I must say, way too high-maintenance. Like after I’ve done my own mani — for hours, I can hardly lift a finger without fear of effing something up.
True luxury lies in ease. As in donning that old black pajama set, day after gray rainy day, this past L.A. winter. Silk lasts. After over a decade of sitting cross-legged on the sofa in these silk pajama pants, reading or watching something; after over a decade of tossing and turning in them as I made and remade myself in cities and careers that were miles and miles apart; after over a decade of washing them, not by hand like my other silks, but by throwing them in the monstrous machine at the laundromat with regular detergent, and yes, sometimes, even machine-drying them (come out soft as a caterpillar) — after over a decade of use and abuse, I only just recently had to have a couple seams resewn. This stuff is ox-strong. Twelve years of sweat and soap, and now when the fabric ripples, black fades to gray, thick with light. You can’t buy patina like this.
Clothes are our closest homes, our first layers of shelter. I guess most folks think they’re only worth investing in when there are strangers to impress. But I want to say that being inside, being alone, is important. Maybe you’re no raja or rani, but your skin might like the touch of silk.
Pamela wears Vivienne Westwood corset, vintage purple briefs, Justine Clenquet choker.
Production: Mere Studios
Model: Pamela Holmes
Prop stylist: Gina Caravan
Makeup: Carla Perez
Photo assistant: Nicholas Mora
Prop assistant: Jessica Ayala
Mariam Rahmani is a writer and translator. Her first novel, “Liquid, A Love Story,” comes out in March from Algonquin. It takes place between L.A. and Tehran.
Lifestyle
Sunday Puzzle: Pet theory
On-air challenge
Today’s puzzle is called “Pet Theory.” Every answer is a familiar two-word phrase or name in which the first word start starts PE- and the second word starts T-. (Ex. What walkways at intersections carry –> PEDESTRIAN TRAFFIC)
1. Chart that lists all the chemical elements
2. Place for a partridge in “The 12 Days of Christmas”
3. Male voyeur
4. What a coach gives a team during halftime in the locker room
5. Set of questions designed to reveal your traits
6. Something combatants sign to end a war
7. Someone who works with you one-on-one with physical exercises
8. Member of the Who
9. Incisors, canines, and premolars that grow in after you’re a baby
10. Nadia Comaneci was the first gymnast to score this at the Olympics
11. What holds the fuel in a British car
Last week’s challenge
Last week’s challenge was a numerical one from Ed Pegg Jr., who runs the website mathpuzzle.com. Take the nine digits — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. You can group some of them and add arithmetic operations to get 2011 like this: 1 + 23 ÷ 4 x 5 x 67 – 8 + 9. If you do these operations in order from left to right, you get 2011. Well, 2011 was 15 years ago. Can you group some of the digits and add arithmetic symbols in a different way to make 2026? The digits from 1 to 9 need to stay in that order. I know of two different solutions, but you need to find only one of them.
Challenge answer
12 × 34 × 5 – 6 – 7 + 8 – 9 [or] 1 + 2 + 345 × 6 – 7 × 8 + 9
Winner
Daniel Abramson of Albuquerque, N.M.
This week’s challenge
This week’s challenge comes from listener Ward Hartenstein. Think of a well-known couple whose names are often said in the order of _____ & _____. Seven letters in the names in total. Combine those two names, change an E to an S, and rearrange the result to name another famous duo who are widely known as _____ & _____.
If you know the answer to the challenge, submit it below by Thursday, January 15 at 3 p.m. ET. Listeners whose answers are selected win a chance to play the on-air puzzle.
Lifestyle
Paul Gripp, one of the last great orchid explorers and hybridizers, dies at 93
After retirement, Paul Gripp still visited the nursery often, helping with weeding, as he’s doing here in this file photo, or just talking with customers.
(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
Orchid expert Paul Francis Gripp, a renowned orchid breeder, author and speaker who traveled the world in search of unusual varieties for his nursery, Santa Barbara Orchid Estates, died in a Santa Barbara hospice center on Jan. 2 after a short illness. He was 93.
In a Facebook post on Jan. 4, Gripp’s sister, Toni Gripp Brink, said her brother died “after suffering a brain hemorrhage and loss of consciousness in his longtime Santa Barbara home. He was surrounded by his loving family, day and night, for about a week in a Santa Barbara hospice before he passed.”
Gripp was renowned in the orchid world for his expertise, talks and many prize-winning hybrids such as the Santa Barbara Sunset, a striking Laelia anceps and Laeliocattleya Ancibarina cross with rich salmon, peach and magenta hues that was bred to thrive outside in California’s warmer climes.
In a 2023 interview, Gripp’s daughter, Alice Gripp, who owns and operates the business also known as SBOE with her brother, Parry, said Santa Barbara Sunset is still one of the nursery’s top sellers.
Santa Barbara Sunset is one of the most popular orchids that Paul Gripp bred at his famed orchid nursery, Santa Barbara Orchid Estates a.k.a. SBOE.
(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
Gripp was a popular speaker, author and avid storyteller who talked about his experiences searching for orchids in the Philippines, Myanmar (then known as Burma), India, the high Andes, Mexico, Guatemala, Brazil, New Guinea and other parts of the world, fostering exchanges with international growers and collecting what plants he could to propagate, breed and sell in his Santa Barbara nursery.
“Working in orchids has been like living in a dream,” Gripp said in a 2023 interview. “There’s thousands of different kinds, and I got to travel all over to find things people would want. But the first orchid I found? It was in Topanga Creek, Epipactis gigantea, our native orchid, and you can still find them growing in [California’s] streams and canyons today.”
Gripp was “one of the last orchid people who went looking for these plants in situ — where they occurred in nature,” said Lauris Rose, one of his former employees who is now president of the Santa Barbara International Orchid Show and owner of Cal-Orchid Inc., a neighboring nursery that she started with her late husband James Rose, another SBOE employee who died in January 2025.
These days, Rose said in an interview on Thursday, orchids are considered “something to enhance the beauty of your home,” but when she and her husband first began working with Gripp in the 1970s, “they were something that totally captivated your interest and instilled a wanderlust spirit that made you want to explore the species in the plant kingdom, as they grew in nature, not as produced in various colors from laboratories.”
She said Gripp’s charm and self-deprecating demeanor also helped fuel his success. “People flocked for the experience of walking around that nursery and learning things from him,” Rose said in a 2023 interview.
“Paul lectured all over the world, teaching people about different species of orchids in a very accessible way,” Rose said. “He didn’t act like a professor. He got up there with anecdotes like, ‘One time I climbed up this tree trying to reach a plant in another tree, and all these red ants infested my entire body, so I had to take off all my clothes and rub all these ants off my body.’ A lot of people’s lectures are boring as dirt, but Paul could command a room. He had charisma, and it was infectious.”
Gripp was born on Oct. 18, 1932, in Greater Los Angeles and grew up in Topanga Canyon. He went to Santa Monica College and then UCLA, where he earned a degree in horticulture, and worked as a gardener on weekends, primarily for Robert J. Chrisman, a wealthy Farmers Insurance executive and hobbyist orchid grower who lived in Playa del Rey.
After college, Gripp served a stint in the Navy after the Korean War, and when he got out, he called Chrisman, his old boss, who invited him to come to Santa Barbara and manage the orchid nursery he was starting there.
After retirement, Paul Gripp still visited the nursery often, helping with weeding, as he’s doing here in this file photo, or just talking with customers.
(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
The nursery opened in 1957, with Gripp as its manager, and 10 years later, after Chrisman died, he purchased SBOE from the Chrisman family.
In 1986, Gripp and his then-wife, Anne Gripp, divorced. In the settlement, Gripp got their cliff-side Santa Barbara home with its breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean, and his former wife got the nursery. When Anne Gripp died, her children Parry and Alice inherited the nursery and took over its operation in 1994, Alice Gripp said in 2023.
Gripp officially retired from the nursery, but he was a frequent helper several times a week, weeding, dividing plants, answering customer questions and regaling them with his orchid-hunting stories.
“Paul loves plants, but what he loves most in life is teaching other people about orchids,” Alice Gripp said in 2023. “He chats with them, and I try to take their money.”
Gripp wasn’t a huge fan of the ubiquitous moth orchids (Phalaenopsis) sold en masse in most grocery store floral departments, but he was philosophical about their popularity.
They’re good for indoor plants, he said in 2023, but don’t expect them to live very long. “A house is a house, not a jungle,” he said, “so there’s a 99% chance they’re going to die. But they’re pretty cheap [to buy], so it works out pretty good.”
“He used to say, ‘I’m an orchid man. I love every orchid equally,’ and he does,” his daughter said in 2023. “I don’t know if he would run into a burning building to save a Phalaenopsis from Trader Joe’s, but he told me once, ‘I’ve never thrown out a plant.’ And that’s probably true. When he was running things, the aisles were so crammed people were always knocking plants off the benches because they couldn’t walk through.”
Gripp is survived by his children and his second wife, Janet Gripp, as well as his sister Toni Gripp Brink. In a post on the nursery’s website on Jan. 5, the Gripp family asked for privacy.
“We are still very much grieving Paul’s sudden passing,” the message read. “If you would like to share your memories of Paul, please send them by mail or email for us to read in the days to come. We will welcome your remembrances and gather these into a scrapbook to keep at SBOE. We appreciate your understanding of our need for peaceful reflection at this time. In the coming weeks, we will announce our plans for honoring and remembering Paul with our orchid friends.”
Lifestyle
Veteran actor T.K. Carter, known for ‘The Thing’ and ‘Punky Brewster,’ dies at 69
Actor TK Carter arrives for the premiere of “The LA Riot” at the Tribeca Film Festival, Monday, April 25, 2005, in New York.
Mary Altaffer/AP
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Mary Altaffer/AP
DUARTE, Calif. — Veteran actor T.K. Carter, who appeared in the horror film “The Thing” and “Punky Brewster” on television, has died at the age of 69.
Carter was declared dead Friday evening after deputies responded to a call regarding an unresponsive male in Duarte, California, according to the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.
Police did not disclose a cause of death or other details, but said no foul play was suspected.
Thomas Kent “T.K.” Carter was born Dec. 18, 1956, in New York City and was raised in Southern California.
He began his career in stand-up comedy and with acting roles. Carter had been acting for years before a breakthrough role as Nauls the cook in John Carpenter’s 1982 horror classic, “The Thing.” He also had a recurring role in the 1980s sitcom “Punky Brewster.”
Other big-screen roles include “Runaway Train” in 1985, “Ski Patrol” in 1990 and “Space Jam” in 1996.
“T.K. Carter was a consummate professional and a genuine soul whose talent transcended genres,” his publicist, Tony Freeman, said in a statement. “He brought laughter, truth, and humanity to every role he touched. His legacy will continue to inspire generations of artists and fans alike.”
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