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Edition VII
Edition № VII — A Manual For The Small Hours
Eight pieces. Long-staple cotton, washed silk, brushed flannel. Mother-of-pearl buttons turned by a man named Gerald. Patterns drafted by hand, then sent to a small atelier in Porto where they are sewn slowly and inspected twice. We do not make loungewear. We make pajamas.
Designed to be worn nightly and replaced rarely. Each piece takes a name, not a number, and is made in three runs a year. When a run is gone, it is gone.
We started this house because the choice in pajamas had become either juvenile or aspirationally hotelier, and neither suited the lives we were quietly leading.
Proper Pajama People is for the hour after the dishes are done and before the lamp is switched off. We make eight pieces. We do not chase trend, we do not run sales, and we do not believe a pajama ought to feel like activewear. A pajama should feel like a quiet room.
— H. R. Penrose, founder
Marylebone, London
Combed twice. Woven in Bergamo. Softens with each wash and never pills.
22-momme weight. Heavy enough to drape, light enough to forget you are wearing.
For the small hours of January. Brushed on both sides, pre-shrunk twice.
Stonewashed for the lived-in hand the day it arrives. Reserved for summer pieces.
Buttons turned in Birmingham by a man named Gerald, who has done so since 1971.
A short, slightly furious essay by our founder, who owns thirty-one of them.
The case for cold water, a mesh bag, and absolutely no fabric softener.
A profile of Signor Bianchi and his unreasonable opinions on French seams.
Once a season we send a thin envelope: a short essay, an early look at the next edition, and the occasional record recommendation. We will not tell you about a sale. There isn't one.
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