The sort of pajamas one wakes up looking put-together. The kind that makes you want to stroll downstairs for coffee and a newspaper. The kind that would not look remotely out of place in a candid paparazzi shot while taking the dog out in the morning — assuming, of course, one was besieged by paparazzi.

As a matter of fact, there has been no shortage of people wearing one of our pajamas precisely in order to be noticed. At a fashion show, for instance.

Word must have spread that at Schostal they still make pajamas the way they did 150 years ago — and if something has worked for 150 years, there is probably a reason for it.

I admit it: my shop is old-fashioned.

It is a historic bottega, and I imagine that what makes the atmosphere feel so exquisitely d’antan is the succession of generations who learned not only how to be served, but how to be served well.

I believe the way we conduct ourselves inside a shop reveals a great deal about our ability to embody a certain etiquette.

Etiquette is simply consideration made visible.

It is not a dusty collection of obsolete rules or absurd protocols, it’s savoir-faire - literally: knowing how to do.

For me, savoir-faire is a reciprocal matter: it applies as much to the person behind the counter as to the person standing before it.

I often notice that truly important people (real superstars, I mean) when they walk into my shop, seem almost anxious not to inconvenience anyone.

They have come shopping, and intend to experience it as a small pocket of everyday normalcy within lives that are otherwise extravagantly out of the ordinary. A simple experience, in other words: thoughtful, certainly, but not “a big deal”.

They possess a grace, a way of inhabiting the world, of moving through it with lightness and precision, that is probably the result of immense self-control — or perhaps simply innate talent.

They do not expect deference, but they do expect efficiency and attention to detail.

Quite different is the case of the minor influencers, who, paradoxically, tend to expect more favorable treatment the smaller they are.

Well, darling… I’m afraid not.

They understand the value of their time

and consequently treat other people’s time with equal respect.

Z. smiled warmly at other customers and waited her turn without expecting any special treatment whatsoever. Doing so, she made everyone feel at ease. What struck me was not that she was famous. What struck me was that she behaved exactly like the easiest customer to serve.

When her turn came, she wanted to know the names of my dogs and she showed me a picture of her own.

For my part, I love when people genuinely care about having a little conversation and I also find it immensely helpful when they declare their intentions.

“I’d simply like to have a look around” is an entirely legitimate request.

Would you like to take your time absorbing the atmosphere of a place and deciding whether it appeals to you?

Are you curious to examine something more closely, even though you already know today is not a day for purchases?

Did you happen to have a free hour, and wandering through shops is simply your way of passing the time?

Then you are in exactly the right place.

Rest assured that in a shop of a certain calibre, no one will pressure you into trying on or purchasing something. Looking is always permissible.

They trust expertise

H.S. asked for a particular model in a specific size, but he was easily convinced a different one would fit him better.

Experienced clerks have a superpower when it comes to sizes, and they can measure you at a glance.

Self-service is not especially compatible with a historic shop. For reasons of space, assortment, but above all to ensure that every customer enjoys a calm and gratifying shopping experience, it is far preferable to allow the staff to assist you.

They will help with sizes and colors, advise you on fabrics, and ensure that garments remain uncreased and easy to retrieve for whoever comes after you.

Sometimes it is worth reminding ourselves: leaving things as we ourselves would wish to find them is statistically one of the best ways to ensure we will indeed find them exactly so.

For the staff, this naturally translates into promptness and efficiency.

And yes — in the sort of shop I believe in, the staff may show you two hundred items without the slightest obligation to buy. Perhaps not all within a single shift.

They are present

and they don’t try to do five things at once

H.S. took only four minutes to choose the pajamas he would take home.

He didn’t frantically check his phone and he didn’t take any call while he was choosing. He was focused and proactive.

Naturally, in the nineteenth century — when Schostal was founded — there were no smartphones with which to fidget during a shopping excursion. Nonetheless, I believe a small chapter on telephone etiquette is now unavoidable.

What exactly is the point of making phone calls from the fitting room, or while one is in the middle of paying?

Over the last decade we have convinced ourselves that multitasking is a medal to be proudly displayed in every area of existence. Yet after hundreds of futile, nerve-fraying attempts to capture the attention of customers clearly dissociated into their devices, I have come to believe that shopping is best done the old-fashioned way: one thing at a time, and done properly.

The other customers will thank you as well.

As for photographs taken with one’s phone, I have absolutely nothing against them — but I do believe it is simply good manners to ask permission beforehand, and after all, it costs nothing.

If Zendaya can do it, surely the rest of us can too.