I’d like to start a movement. Now, I know there will be skeptics. Every visionary encounters them at some stage, so I’m prepared. I know some of you will be all, “You’ve never organized more than your socks,” to which I’d reply, “Joke’s on you, my socks are a goddamn mess.” And for those select few who are wasting time wondering what I do when I can’t find gym socks, allow me to ease your mind – Winter boots socks are the happiest understudy there ever was. You’ll get your sweat on without even trying, y’all. You’re welcome for that little life hack.

Now, on to my movement idea. Come to find out, I’ve actually been writing about this for years. I’ve made mini references like “fuzzy heeled slippers” and “I eat gold,” but I’m beginning to think maybe I haven’t been explicit enough.

That changes today.

It’s time to bring back glamorous loungewear. It’s just time. We’ve all had our 50-some-odd year old fling with cotton, even though the majority of us knew we were faking it for the lion’s share of that time. “I’ll wait until the kids are grown,” you’d tell yourself. “Then I’ll bring back the silks, the satins, the crushed velvets. For now, this Hanes shirt is really doing it for me.”

Some of you were delusional enough to think it could last. I admire your naiveté. I mean, sure, there’s a certain thrill you get when dressing down that I won’t pretend I’m immune to. It’s like “Oh the King would never approve. You’re too simple, I just can’t. Oh, just for one episode of Narcos? Well I don’t see the harm there.”

Before you know it, three days have come and gone and you’ve barely managed to tease your hair into a suitable beehive. We’ve all been there.

Now, if it were solely up to the skin, we’d have already brought back the glamour. The skin is not aware of social norms, classism, trends and the like. It simply knows what feels good, and the silks, furs, velvets and satins are undoubtedly superior to cotton.

The problem, however, is the elephant in the room. I know you’re all thinking it. You’re thinking, sure, loungewear was once glamorous. When talkies first burst on the scene, you’d be hard pressed to find a heroine who wore her fur outside the home. It was the heyday of the boudoir.

Something changed in the 1970s, though. Suddenly Hugh Hefner staked his claim on velvet. Suddenly, there was a stigma in place. With one boudoir fabric amiss from the selection, participation began to drop off. “But he doesn’t have silk yet!” Boudoir sympathizers cried, “and I’ve yet to see him don fur, satin, etc. Glamorous loungewear is still valid!”

And they may have been right, for a spell. Then the worst happened, and businesses like Fredericks of Hollywood just completely misinterpreted the look. They released a complete bastardization of the look with acid colors, fabrics ending in -lon (ie rayon, nylon), and just far too many feathers.

At that stage, it was a short ride to trashy-town. Now it seems designers who attempt this look merely vacillate between low-class and muppet. Exhibit A to the left. Were they trying for a sexy Big Bird? If so, success. I’m willing to bet the intent was Old Hollywood, though, and this is just so far from nailing it. They’ve clearly lost their way.

Anyways, it’s time to take back the glamour, y’all. I think it’ll take the designers some time to fully understand what we’re going for, so in the meantime you may have to get creative. Luckily, we’re in the Pinterest age. Go on, re-purpose an old satin bridesmaid gown. Tear up a mohair throw and fashion a kimono. Shave your cockapoo and use the trimmings for some old heels. Anything with a luxurious fabric is game for the up-cycle. No idea is too small.

Then, share your creations on Instagram with a customized hashtag like #MohairBoudoirDontCare or maybe #CrawfordNotBigBird.

Lastly, ignore the skeptics. Cockapoo fur literally has no other purpose, so get on with your up-cycling self.