I have a strong dislike for dressing gowns. And my reasons are multiple.
Firstly, you have to wear at the very least boxers underneath. Because if you don’t your dick flops out every two minutes and you flash family members your scrotum each time you sit or squat down. So you end up wearing what you’d usually be wearing underneath the dressing gown anyway.
Always ill-fitting, it feels like 80% of the fabric is in the upper half of the dressing gown. So your upper body is boiling. But the lower extremities feel cold and exposed, like you’re wearing a child sized kilt on a winters day.
The arms are too long with wide sleeves that droop on to your plate each time you eat. And every time you move your arms too quickly you feel like Dumbledore conjuring a spell.
The belt is useless. It comes undone every thirty seconds, usually thanks to the slippery fabric it’s made of. So you double knot it, making it impossible to undo ever again. And of course it’s now so tight that you feel like you’re wearing a corset that Dita Von Teese would find cramped. And don’t forget the stupidly long tassels are just hanging there, getting in your way. And if the belt is done up good luck accessing anything you have in your pockets.
I mean, you could just not bother doing up the belt of course. But an undone dressing gown gives you the look of a mentally ill person who has just escaped the psychiatric ward.
And don’t ever let a neighbour see you outside in your dressing gown. A man outside in a dressing gown at any time of day stinks of unemployed and recently divorced.
The collar is a monstrous thing. Thick and wide. Which is only useful if you plan on wearing your dressing gown at a concert whilst a girl is sitting on your shoulders. And it would protect your shoulders in such circumstances to be fair.
You will never wash it. So food stains and your dressing gowns fabric become life partners. That soup stain will still be there in five years, encrusted in time.
And you can’t wear the dressing gown in bed because it will have travelled all the way up your body before you’ve even launched Netflix. So you have to take it off. Meaning you now need a place to store it. Not on a hanger in your wardrobe, that’s too much work. So instead it’s usually piled onto the floor. You could put it on a hook on the back of your bedroom door. But now you have around 5KG of ugly fabric in your eyeline whilst in bed. And the chances of you waking up in the middle of the night and mistaking it for a creepy intruder watching you from your doorway is extremely high.
So in summary, dressing gowns are stupid.