Growing up, bathrobes were for everyday wear. Every night, the routine went: shower, dry off with a towel, get in pajamas, put on a bathrobe, and slippers (if it was cold) from the closet in our room and then watch tv, etc downstairs until bed. My mother (and grandmother) are religious with this and have a collection of some of the softest fabrics that I grew up snuggling next to on the couch. Every night, the robe would come out – a lighter one for summers, a thick, cozy, terrycloth. Every morning, it was the same – bathrobe for breakfast on the weekends. bathrobe for Christmas mornings.
I also took up the bathrobe fashion. They’re an extra layer in a drafty house in the winter, and keep the heat in after a hot shower. They keep the chill out in the summer and are much nicer than a sweatshirt. One year I got a new one for Christmas, a yellow one, with a big sun on the back, and at breakfast that morning I leaned over the table to get the salt and I caught the sleeve on fire on the Christmas candles. Only for a second – it barely left a mark. I still wore it for years after. I even had a bathrobe or two for college – those were more necessary. It’s easier to walk down a long hallway in college in a bathrobe than a towel.
I absolutely did not have enough room in my suitcase for a bathrobe ever, and here, bathrobes are used more for drying off from the shower, or for wrapping yourself up for the walk between a spa treatment and the sauna or steam room. I’ve gotten out of the habit of cozying up in wrinkly folds of towel on cold winter nights, and I’m honestly not sure if they’d even help against the damp chill that Florence brings. But as I once again tried to use a robe out of the shower, and stuck my wet arms in sleeves that then stayed wet, I honestly love bathrobes much more when they’re dry. Maybe I’ll get a fluffy one for Christmas.