I Attended an Australian Supermodel’s Pajama Party

Photo: Graham Denholm/Getty Images

There are certain things in life that it’s best to say yes to immediately. For example, ordering fries for the table. Or any opportunity to set foot on a boat. In this same vein, when an Australian supermodel invites you to her pajama party, you RSVP quickly. The moment my finger hit the “send” button, though, I had questions. What, exactly, was I committing myself to by saying yes to a celebration of Bambi Northwood-Blyth — she of the impossibly lush eyebrows, and impossibly spindly legs that recall her Disney namesake — and the launch of her sleepwear line, PJamé? (How that is pronounced is anyone’s guess. I settled for “rhymes with Chris Lilley’s enunciation of Ja’mie.”)

As the big night approached, the upcoming event became the talk of Sydney Fashion Week, garnering the most buzz around a pajama-centric event since my high school held a dance called, hand to God, the Pajama Jammie Jam. I began to hear rumors: that as a sort of devil’s pact, guests would be made to doff their day clothes and change into PJamé originals before entering. Would those pajamas be available in a medium, or perhaps a large, I asked hesitantly? The prognosis was unclear. Someone mentioned something about a bathtub full of male models being central to this event. I clutched my cardigan tighter.

Amid all my fears about the pajama party, all of which turned out to be founded — changing in front of a co-ed group of industry acquaintances, cumbersome hors d’oeuvres, a claustrophobia-vertigo cocktail —  an intense guest hierarchy was not on the list. But once we had made it past the step and repeat, successfully acquired wristbands, handed over our belongings and changed out of our clothes into matching, standard-issue silvery silk pajamas with white piping (which proved roomy enough, thank goodness, because who wants to be at a model-stuffed PJ romp in too-small pajamas?) we discovered that while everyone was dressed identically, they were not grouped identically. Yes, friends, there was a VIP area at this pajama party, and yes, it was indeed cordoned off by a velvet rope.

The venue, a posh club that, due to the staggering number of candles on display, looked like a spa that had been rented out for an orgy — might as well have been a lock-in at Tall Beautiful Australian H.S. for all the mingling between the haves (pajamas and complete aesthetic perfection) and the have-somes (just pajamas) that occurred. More perplexing, there didn’t seem to be a dividing line between the people who were modeling the collection and those who were simply attractive and carefree, but not technically on the payroll. The group of Aussie 20-somethings sitting in an empty hot tub full of feathers — evidently the bathtub rumor was sort of true — seemed like they could fall under either category. They noshed on a boutique brand of popcorn called Poshcorn, which makes sense given that vigorous snacking is a pajama-friendly activity. And some of them were definitely famous in Australia, because paparazzi were dogging the building entrance waiting for boldface names to emerge in their bedroom attire.

Northwood-Blyth and her co-designer and husband, Dan Single (who co-founded the Aussie denim brand Ksubi), must have been swallowed up by the singularly beautiful crowd, because I could not seem to find them to solicit comment on their new vision for the world of sleepwear. But having tested the jammies out while dancing, drinking, living, laughing, and loving tonight, I can say that they hold up, both as formalwear and as casualwear. Did I keep them on to go out to dinner afterward? It’s entirely possible I did.

I Attended an Australian Supermodel’s Pajama