The French painter Bonnard beautifully imagined it in his famous painting by giving it a female role. Morning outfit or evening outfit?
When you wear it, it inspires me ideas beyond its simple function:
It’s the perfect outfit of desire or aversion. Too perfect, too clean, too ready to wear chic repels me just as much as the fringed, distorted bathrobe with a nonchalant gait in dilapidated slippers makes me jump. The white, livid, hospitable bathrobe an essential element of the universal thermal cure depresses me, even if sometimes we add the adjective immaculate.
And then there is you and only you who dethrone prejudices when you adorn yourself with this garment with the simplicity, the naturalness and the elegance of a sultan or consul. You do not seek any archetype. The bathrobe then becomes a symbol of wisdom and relaxation. The aura of your distinction invades me. I look at you discreetly to steal your figure and the desire to throw myself into its folds and the vagueness of the fabric carries me towards you. I dare to continue my madness until I loosen its belt, then I rush into the arabesque of its forms to merge into it.
To be continued …