It started one day as an innocent fling. I pounced on it as soon as I saw it in Topshop. I quickly found my size, tried it on and purchased it all while stealthily eating a thai chicken wrap from the canteen next to the fitting rooms.
When I showed my friend I could see her eyebrows raise slightly as she asked, “What would you wear with that?!” My answer is tights. Always, black tights. Surely that would make this flimsy white cotton playsuit with rosebuds on it work appropriate.
Shortly after this, I discovered that Topshop (and other online shops) even helpfully just had a “playsuit” section on their website that I could check for new items to appear while at work. I even discovered someone to romp with me in the art of playsuit acquisition at work: my friend L.
Things quickly spiralled out of control when we were both seen receiving our orders at the work courier desk. Inevitably we acquired the same ones which only added fuel to the madness. Who could discover the newest ones first? What size did you order? Something had to give or one of us would have to be sectioned in our yellow daisy bustier playsuits (yes, really).
As much as I cling for dear life to my love of the romper, I know that it’s not a classic piece that I will cherish forever and wear to important meetings. There had to be a limit to something that would normally be something worn only on weekends. Even working at a magazine, people would most likely question an adult woman who wore a playsuit to work everyday of the week.
The appeal of the playsuit lies just not in its adorable appearance. Like its name, it suggests leisure time, fun and frolics. It reminds me of overalls, baby rompers and the homemade onesies my mother used to dress my sister and I in as kids. It’s harder to be grumpy when you’re wearing something that could have been fished out of your primary school wardrobe. (Lucky for me they never reminded me of prison.)
There are a lot of people that would argue that grown women should not be seen in a playsuit or romper. The very name of the offending article of clothing begs ridicule and suggests that the wearer is in primary school and has only just learned how to read. But it’s the most comfortable thing in the world if you buy one that’s loose fitting, never mind the fact that it makes going to the bathroom take three times as long. It’s also easy to slip on in the morning, more casual than wearing a dress and you don’t have to cross your legs. Just add a belt and cardigan and you’re off. As the name readily suggests, you can then go romping in fields without a care in the world.
Two years and countless manifestations of the playsuit later, my obsession shows no signs of abating. It’s slowly evolved to now include jumpsuits - the longer version. Two months ago I foolishly bought three jumpsuits in the span of two days, all of which I have yet to wear. A black jersey one (practical and more comfortable than my pyjamas), a strapless polka dot one and a purple baggy vintage one that can only be described as “birthday party clown”. I had to talk myself out of adding a gorgeous silk coral jumpsuit to my little spree that made me look like an 80-year-old retiree named Laverne because I recognized that I was behaving like a lunatic.
For now, I’ve put myself on a strict romper restriction. At least until I wear my purple jumpsuit in public and get hired as an actual birthday party clown, a sure sign of sartorial encouragement.