The Rixin neighbourhood committee in the city's northeast has begun a campaign to discourage residents' longstanding habit of wearing pyjamas out of their bedrooms and on the streets, the state-run Youth Daily reported.

"We're telling people not to wear pyjamas in the street because it looks very uncivilised," community official Guo Xilin was quoted as saying.

The Shanghainese habit of wearing pyjamas in public emerged alongside China's economic reforms over the past 30 years as it became a sign of prosperity, because it meant people did not sleep in tattered old clothes.

For a still visibly large number of Shanghainese, wearing pyjamas outside has become more a way of life than a fashion statement, and to outsiders, the phenomenon is part of the city's charm.

Guo, however, called pyjama-wearers "visual pollution" and a public embarrassment to the city.

But some residents still argue wearing pyjamas is perfectly acceptable.

"Pyjamas are also a type of clothes. It's comfortable, and it's no big deal since everyone wears them outside," a retiree surnamed Ge was quoted as saying.

Rixin's pyjama purge campaign is not the first of its kind. In the 1990s Shanghai officials put up signs and ran education campaigns to tell people not to stroll around in night gowns. The campaign's managers eventually gave up.

is this more an Asian Problem?? ... as i see the Thais also do this ????... but never westerners?

also the asians back in the UK do it as well??...

could there dress be the same as there food habit ...

I go and visit my mate in Hangzou (2 hours drive from Shanghai) and it always makes me smile seeing the Chinese walking, driving or cycling in their pyjamas with pictures of cuddly toys on them. Leave em alone, i say.

(edit: my perspective is based on Thailand though, not China)

I love it. Makes me feel like the rules and regulations that controlled my life growing up and in adulthood in the west are thrown out of the window. Might sound a tad dramatic, but seeing people in their jammies not provoking any strange looks or reactions really is a gentle reminder to me of why I like life here. I dont have rose-tinted specs on, i know Thailand has an abundance of problems, but simple things like that make me feel good.

I think its also to do with cleanliness and ease. In the evening after your shower, if you dont plan to go out again, its simple to just put on your pyjamas and not mess up clean clothes (or put on the old dirty ones..yuck). If you need something quick from the local shop or whatever, then easy just to pop out wearing them. The idea of doing it myself used to seem weird, but i dont mind now. If staying at my bf's place and we decide to go over the road to buy some food or snack etc, i used to think i had to get changed first. He thought that i was being the crazy one!

As for morning time pyjama wearing, well my bf wakes up every weekday at 6:30am to get his kids breakfast ready before school. With the traffic they need to get up early to get to the school in time. The kids both have a shower before getting dressed. No time for my bf to get his shower. He wouldnt dream of putting on fresh clean clothes without showering first, so he just washes his face and drives the kids to school in his jammies. When I first started to stay over, if I was going with my bf in the morning to the school, I used to get up before all of them, so as not to mess up their schedule, and take my shower, then get dressed. After a while I got fed up with that, and wanted my extra half hour kip, so I joined him in just wearing my jammies then taking a shower on our return. Feels easy, feels comfy.

Jammies ? What are jammies ?

I prefer to wear nothing but a smile when I sleep (though it is sometimes embarrassing to pop out of bed and run outside, then realize everyone is staring at you).

jammies jimjams pyjamies ...sound so much cuter than Pyjamas

Don't know about China, however, here in Kabin my FIL regurarely spends the early part of the day in his sleeping clothes which consist of a pair of worn out boxers and an old T shirt.

About 6 months ago, all the partners in the family business had to meet at the bank at 11.00 am to sign a loan agreement, and my FIL rocks up in his "pyjamas". The bank manager was shocked, more so because one of the old mans <deleted> was clearly visable when he sat down.

Bet he got what he wanted, and quickly. Strategy!

Ok, thats quite different, Thats really quite yucky (and possibly smelly).

My Mrs goes down the village market on her motorbike in her jams and dressing gown all the time.

When we were staying at a near Sukhumvit Road Hotel once she attempted to head off similarly clad one morning to get sewing alterations done on some clothes she'd bought and I had to point there was a chance her mode of dress might be misinterpreted.

My FIL rocks up in his "pyjamas". The bank manager was shocked, more so because one of the old mans <deleted> was clearly visable when he sat down.

This reminds me of a story from many years ago when I (working with an aboriginal organisation at the time) attended a high powered bush steering committee meeting between members of an aboriginal comunity and representatives from several govt agencies to discuss funding of millions of dollars.

The meeting was held in a traditional manner with reps sitting in a circle in a clearing in the bush. The leader of the local community was a white character called Don McLeod, who had turned, and been accepted as, native.

There was quite a few gasps from the city bred public servants, particularly the women, when McLeod, dressed only in a pair of old, loose shorts squatted in the circle and dropped his significant pair of gonads down each leg of the shorts and into the dust. He continued with the meeting oblivious to the consternation the sight caused for some.

For Sceadugenga, who I know loves his poetry, here's one about McLeod:

Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod

A poem by Dorothy Hewett©Dorothy Hewett 1946

Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod

Walked by the wurlies when the wind was loud,

And their voice was new as the fresh sap running,

And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.

Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush

And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.

Like mongrel dogs with their flattened tail

They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.

In the big black jail where the moonlight fell

Clancy and Dooley sat in the cell.

In the big white court crammed full with hate

They said, "We wouldn't scab on a mate."

In the great hot quiet they said it loud

And smiled in the eyes of Don McLeod,

And the working-men all over the land

Heard what they shouted and shook their hand.

The sheep's wool dragged and the squatters swore

And talked nice words till their tongues got sore

And their bellies swelled with so much lies

But the blackfellers shooed them off like flies.

The sheep got lost on the squatters' run.

The shearing season was nearly done.

Said the squatters eaten up with greed,

" We'll pay good wages and give good feed."

The blackfellers sheared the wool and then

Got their wages like working-men.

The squatters' words were stiff and sore,

" We won't pay wages like that no more."

The white boss said-STAY OUT OF TOWN,

And they ground with their boots to keep us down.

" We'll starve them out until they crawl

Back on their bellies, we'll starve 'em all."

The sun was blood on the bare sheep-runs,

The women whispered, "They'll come with guns."

But we marched to our camp, and our step was proud,

And we sat down there and we laughed out loud.

Clancy arid Dooley and Don McLeod,

Walked by the wurlies when the wind was loud.

And their voice was new as the fresh sap running,

And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.

Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush

And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.

Like mongrel dogs with their flattened tail

They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.

The young men marched down the road like thunder

Kicked up the dust and padded it under.

They marched into town like a whirlwind cloud

OPEN UP THE JAIL AND LET OUT DON McLEOD.

The squatters are riding round in the night Crying,

" Load up your guns and creep out quiet.

Let's teach these niggers that they can't rob

The big white bosses of thirty bob."

Our young men are hunters, our old men make songs

And the words of our people are whiplashed with wrongs

In the tribes of our country they sing, and are proud

Of the Pilbarra men and the white man, McLeod.

Our voice is lightning all over the land

And we clench up our fists on the sweat of our hands

For the voice of the workers is thundering loud

FIGHT WITH CLANCY AND DOOLEY AND DON McLEOD.

Don McLeod beat at a mulga bush

And a lot of queer things came out in a rush.

Like mangy dogs with their flattened tail

They sneaked him off to the Hedland jail.

But Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod

Walk by the wurlies when the wind is loud.

And their voice is new as the fresh sap running,

And we keep on fighting and we keep on coming.

Notes

Many thanks to Merv Lilley for permission to add this poem to the Union Songs collection. It was published in What About The People a collection of poems by Dorothy Hewett and Merv Lilley published by the National Council of the Realist Writers in 1963

Clancy and Dooley and Don McLeod was printed with the following note:

[On May Day, 1946, in the PIbarra District in the Nor-West of Western Australia, 800 Aborigine station hands struck for 30 bob a week and the right to organise. Their leaders, the white man Don McLeod, and two Aborigines, Clancy McKenna and Dooley, were arrested and convicted. But pressure through the Labour Movement and the United Nations brought their release. The Aborigines formed their own co-operative which endures to this day. (e.g. See Donald Stuart's novel, "Yandy.").]

Thanks Old Crock, that's quite a poem.

A bit of background on the story here.

1946 Pilbara Strike

Just need to get the ladies out of their jim-jams and into more suitable sleeping attire and all will be well.

Certainly wouldn't call this "visual pollution".

More of a "visual enhancement" I'd say.