I bought two pairs of trousers this week. I don’t very often wear trousers, but I was inspired by this article by Jess Cartner-Morley, the only fashion writer whose advice it’s actually possible to follow, and by Patricia Arquette’s character in Medium, Allison Dubois, who is my office-wear muse because she always looks effortlessly elegant even though she hardly ever gets any sleep and saves someone’s life nearly every week. And she almost always wears trousers. Of course, there isn’t a single photo on the internet where you can see her bottom half, so you’ll just have to take my word for it:
So I bought some trousers. I’ve just remembered that the other reason was because last weekend I bought this top in the Dust sale:
And I thought I needed some trousers to go with it. Trousers or a pencil skirt, but I am even less a pencil skirt wearer than I am a trouser wearer.
So trousers it was. I bought a brownish pair, which goes with the top and anything vaguely warm-toned, and a greyish pair, which I am wearing today with a pale grey polo-neck vest and a grey striped sleeveless shirt. I am a vision of colourlessness.
Anyway, I like the trousers. They are flattering and comfortable and they broaden my work wardrobe by a much higher factor than the simple addition of two new items of clothing. HOWEVER, who designed the fastenings on smart trousers? Both pairs have
- A button
- Three hook fastenings
- A zip
- A belt
Are work trousers more inclined than most to fall down inopportunely? Or is it just that it’s more embarrassing if your trousers fall down at work than if it happens elsewhere, when you would just laugh it off? I cannot imagine circumstances in which a zip and a belt, or some buttons and a belt, wouldn’t have sufficed.
That aside, I am enjoying my new status as a trouser-wearer. But I still don’t know why anyone would wear them for fun.