bathrobes?

Am I reading too much into this? Is it because my own bathrobe did not make it through the "toilet flood of January '06?" Or have I stumbled onto some "symbolism," something I usually try to ignore in movies. (Yes, we get it. Cool Hand Luke is Jesus. Enough already.)

But as I was watching The Apartment last night (I really need to be less lazy about changing the DVD I put in my computer to go to sleep to), I realized that while Fred McMurray's sleazy, two-timing Jeff Sheldrake enjoys a Christmas at home in the suburbs with his wife, two sons, and brand-spanking new silk bathrobe (with price tag still affixed), his mistreated, tormented mistress spends the day as the reluctant houseguest of a panting Jack Lemmon, sleeping off a suicide attempt and wearing his old, musty, plaid robe. Is there something to this?

I had a music CD in my computer this morning, so when I put a movie in tonight, I will hopefully grab something new. . . but when I get comfortable going to sleep to one movie, it's hard to be lulled to sleep by another.