Friday, September 7, 2007
These days it takes true effort to find the perfect pair of trousers. I simply cannot wrap my brain around the art, fabrication and execution of successfully making a pair of pants, let alone a pair that fits. If I knew the secret, my closet would be brimming with personalized pants instead of ill-fitting, contemporary attempts. How odd that we are taught to believe that one size, selected from a vast array of numbers, is supposed to fit specific lower human halves? While many of us fluctuate, figuratively speaking, why and how can we embody a set size when we're long, we're short, we're thick and slight and abbreviated in myriad equations? That is precisely why I miss polyester. Big sigh. Sure, it doesn't breathe and yes, it skims and then sits taught on dimpled skin, nevertheless, it is this synthetic miracle that complements my form best. And oddly enough, my favorite fit usually hails from the male sector of the fashion industry's vision of design, length, width and pocket availability. Sure, squeezing feminine curves into man pants may seem silly, often times waistlines prove troublesome, but man alive, pinstriped slacks and vintage permanent press pantalones are what this lady calls staples.
Recently however, I was enlightened beyond non believer status. I found them, my favorite trunk tamers - wide leg, high waisted, dress you up and dress you down pants. One pair even boasted the original tag and signage. And if the pants weren't perfection, I'll admit I would've purchased them based on marketing and an anonymous model's inviting pose alone. Sucker. The pants arrived after a long haul, a journey of routine rejection ultimately searching just for me, from a dusted 1979. Who knew that this fashion enthusiast would be born just one year shy of such stellar pant pasts? Lucky for me, the constant garment house excavator, I have been reunited with poplin. Sometimes I wish I'd been a product of the 1970s rather than the eighties. I enjoy adorning my head and self with myriad reappropriations of organic matter; wispy feathers, the occasional brilliantly hued and scented flower and pieces of wood (mostly meeting my scalp in the form of a chopstick or pencil). I was never one too fascinated by the art of bedazzling, but I admit, I did indeed enjoy a hot of the wheel, snappy spin art sweatsuit - honestly, wearable masterpieces! Why then, such a dilemma of eras? No problem, really, I just wish I lived in a time that better suited me, literally. I wonder if they still produce these pants I now covet. I'm guessing they don't. Because if they did, and if they continued their fine trend of product photography, I'd know it. The images are just too good. So perhaps I'll just continue fighting the good fight of searching and scouring and hunting for more of these genius two legged creations.
Peace and pants and ps: sorry for the backwards image - camera trauma - yet another reason I may have thrived better pre-technology . . .