Now that we’re into 2016, it’s time to reflect about life and choices.
I recognize that it’s probably true that if I wanted to do my best impression of someone who’s got her life in check, I might consider putting pants on. But I’d rather just not.
I don’t hate pants with a white-hot dragon fire every day. I find giving them the slip deeply pleasurable though. It’s not that I’m resentful that I need to put on pants, but whenever possible, it’s liberating to be free of them. Because they can be boring, and annoying, and mostly because they’re not as comfortable as leggings or…nothing at all.
Suffice it to say I’m not alone. You can find any variations on an anti-pants stance imaginable. As with many a Rihanna look, she and others like Courtney Love, Lena Dunham, and other people eschew leg coverage often in things that don’t qualify as clothes.
Pantless is more in tune with my preferred life modes 1) feeling the breeze between my lack of a thigh gap, and 2) being confortable. Yes, removing your pants is a joy on par with slipping into a hot tub filled with rosehip salts OR AT LEAST I THINK IT IS. You know the sensation. The second you come home, they come off. At this precise moment, it’s like every last person in the world breathes a sigh of relief for your fabric bound thighs and Mother Theresea and Princess Diana and Maya Angelou all shed a tear that becomes the rain because that’s how much of a hassle pulling pants onto your bod is in the morning. That’s at the end of the day, but life is precious, so why wait?
Wouldn’t it be peachy if trousers weren’t required at fancy functions? Except for the part where they totally are sometimes, and I get that. When I grow up, legally, I might have to wear pants. It will be part of being an actual grown woman as described in the Beyonce song. Not that it makes things you say count more than when you’re in a dress, but I get the appeal. I am not immune to sales pitches from fashion magazines like Harper’s Bazaar “you’ll feel cooler in pants in a room full of dresses,” or the way I think high-waisted distressed jeans help cool women look sleeker. I enjoy the way they make me feel less precious, more mobile and in charge like bossypants lady.
Steal: Rihanna’s Hooray Henry’s Greg Guillemin Catwoman Lollipop Pacifier Black T-Shirt Dress http://t.co/f5aWelMZNZ
— The Fashion Bomb (@thefashionbomb) June 9, 2015
I’m five-one so pantalons give me a longer line, but I could care less about that. What matters most is that I always strive to achieve that gentle bridge between polished and comfortable as all hell. The pleasure I take in how sexy long black pants look tucked into suede black boots IS persuasive. But it’s nothing compared to how much better it is to just wear a dress. At home, I’d just rather be in a oversized t-shirt, and I one day want the confidence and the wherewithal to set foot outside this way.
For my college years, I was spoiled rotten living in Florida, where the sun turned my legs the color of hot chocolate. I never needed pants. Ever. And now in New York, there’s an ease to going sans pants that is lost in the winter. They’re also so much more boring than every other article of clothing unless you’re talking Amal Alamuddin’s palazzo pants.
When I mentioned to a colleague that a deeply hilarious fellow scribe who worked from home should probably focus less on writing and more on getting famous. Her answer: “yeah, but no pants is better.” And it is.