Adventures in Pants

It's going to be a long, hard fall fashion season for me.

Leggings, the scourge of the earth, are everywhere. Even my very close friends are wearing them. (Or at least own them, Alicia.) Girls parade down Newbury Street in impossibly short denim "skirts" (read: belts) and leggings. Wide belts and tunic sweaters abound. I saw a woman wearing a big puffy black tulle skirt, a black bustier bodicey thing, black ballet flats, and leggings. It was a cavalcade of fug. A fugvalanche.

I bought an issue of Elle magazine to try it out at the encouragement of Alicia and Steph. My Cosmo subscription has run out, but it's $20 a year compared to Elle's $10 yearly fee, so I'm tempted to switch allegiances. Elle is a little smarter than Cosmo, with less of a focus on sex and more of a focus on fashion. I put the gigantic tome with Lindsay Lohan (back to a redhead, thank God) on the conveyor belt at the supermarket, and the young cashier picked it up to scan it.

"God, that's a huge magazine," he remarked as I swiped my debit card.

"Well, yes. But I have to be aware of all the trends for fall," I snarked back.

"That's just fall?" He asked incredulously, taking in the girth of the magazine. I've seen encyclopedias with less of a spine width that this month's Elle.

I'm slowly working my way through the magazine (I have had several very important drinking matters to attend to this week) and I'm trying to get to the article that's going to advise me on how to wear skinny fit jeans to flatter my figure. Now, before you start shrieking, let me explain. I have at least three shirts in my closet I could wear with skinny jeans. One is a purple empire-waist gauzy tank-top with a little jewely thing in the middle. It looks stupid with flared skirts or baggy jeans, so slim fit would work wonders. I also have two long t-shirts which look good with anything, but I think would be nice with a slim fit pair. Also, I have a pair of wide-calf knee-high boots that would look pretty hot with the jeans tucked in, but my calves are still too big to fit all the flare jean fabric inside, so a thin-legged jean would be ideal.

On Sunday, my Mom and I had some time to kill before my train left for Boston, so we (I) decided to stop at Target. Figuring I could resist the call of clothing, I went through the section. There was a cute green and white wool skirt that I didn't try on because I didn't know what to wear with it, but I did find a pair of $30 slim-fit jeans to try. Looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody I knew was around, I ducked into the fitting room.

I pulled on the jeans. My calves immediately felt constricted due to the tightness of the bottom of the pant. I'm used to boot cut or flare jeans, so it was a change. Miraculously, I squeezed my thighs in (this is usually where I run into problems with pants), and the jeans went over my butt. I zipped them up, and looked in the mirror.



This is the attractive side view of what I looked like. Due to the laws of physics, I couldn't get a really good rear shot, which was the problem. The jeans fit fine in the legs, but the ass of the pants sagged and the front looked all weird due to the sagging in the back. However, I was not displeased by the fit in the legs. Granted, they were el cheapo jeans with the pockets positioned in a way that made me look like I had four asses, but I am tempted to try a pair from a store I usually buy pants from. (Express, don't let me down.)

I know it's a little '80s throwback, but I figure it's a stupid trend that I can enjoy this season and pretend never happened in 2007. I'll still buy bootcut jeans, but it's fun to indulge in a little trendiness once in a while. But if you see me strolling along Newbury Street in leggings and a fluffy skirt, kill me.