Ok, I’m not a big fashionista. I don’t want to look like a bum or anything, but I’m not the kind of guy who has to have the latest thing when it comes to clothing. Actually I’m confused by changing fashion trends. First of all, who exactly changes them? How does what is considered hip and trendy become so? It is a mystery, one that I suspect is the fault of a small but powerful cabal of conspirators in Paris and New York City. Be that as it may, the fact is that you wake up one day and realize that your pants are looking dated. Suddenly guys are walking around in different styles of pants. Those full cut puffy pleats aren’t working any longer. Besides, they are starting to look a bit frayed. When I look in my closet I see the carnage that has cut a swarth through much of the stuff I used to wear. There must be 6 or 7 suits hanging in there, all lined with a fine mist of dust on the far left of the closet. When I first entered the business world in the early 80’s I wore a suit and tie every single day while sharing a 9x9 office with a guy who chain smoked Marlboro’s. Now, the only time I have worn a suit in the past 10 years has been to weddings and funerals. On the left wall of my closet hangs a tie rack jammed full of silk ties of every color in the rainbow. I currently wear three of them, approximately 20 times a year at the office (never with a jacket) whenever I want to feel more professional. Its all part of yet another trend thats been with us for quite a while now…the drift away from formal and towards casual. I fully expect this trend will one day reverse itself, probably two weeks after I take all my suits over to Hope Thrift.
So, my collection of pants were old and unstylish. Big deal. I would just run over to Joseph A. Banks like I did the last time five years ago, spend ten minutes or so roaming around then see what I want, buy it, and be back home in less than an hour. Only…something strange and disturbing has happened to men’s pants over these past five years. Its as if a group of rogue tailors have colluded among themselves and decided what American men need is 15 different cuts of pants.
The guy who drew the short straw over at J.A. Banks says to me, “So, you want dressy casual pants, do ya? What cut would you prefer?”
I look at him with a blank expression. “Wait…what?”
“Well, lets see, you can get this particular pant in straight leg, classic cut, athletic, trim fit, slim fit, or skinny cut.”
Having zero patience for this nonsense, I walked out and decided that Kohl’s probably had exactly what I wanted and would be cheaper too. I drive over to Kohl’s and discover the same dizzying array of cuts. Different brand, cheaper prices, but still with the cuts. Plus, what the heck has happened to Kohl’s? That place used to be a pretty buttoned up place. Now there are clothes laying around all over the place, picked over and disorganized. When I went to the changing room, every stall was full of discarded clothes from whoever had used the place over the last week!
Undeterred, but feeling slightly annoyed, I went across Broad street to another of my old reliables…Men’s Warehouse. Here I was confronted not only with the cut business, but a new vexing problem. Color. I’m a rather conservative guy. For me, pants I’m planning to wear at my office, among other places, need to not be…how shall I say this…loud. When did men’s clothiers start offering khaki pants the color of pumpkin pie? Where was the great hue and cry among men for Mauve and magenta? Who among us has ever walked into a clothing store looking for banana yellow pants?
At this point I am completely annoyed and ended up going home. As I drove down Three Chopt I thought about all the times my wife has gone out clothes shopping, only to come back three hours later in tears. I wasn’t crying at this point but was beginning to feel an introduction to what I had always referred to as the shopping blues when it was happening to Pam.
The next day I go out again with a new game plan. I have done some googling and now had a better understanding of the subtle differences between Slim, Trim and athletic. Further, I had discovered that L.L. Bean might work out quite nicely. I had found a type of pants I might actually like on their website. “Breathable fabric, water resistant, appropriate for the office and the golf course”, the sales pitch went. I show up over there and found more appropriate colors for a 63 year old man…black, gray, navy blue. Also, after an eternity in the changing room, I decided that straight leg in a 35x30 worked just fine. While I was at it I bought a new pair of stonewashed jeans using the same tyrannical new cut regime. However, L.L. Bean had no khakis that were khaki-color. if I wanted to walk around looking like yellow squash I was in luck, but since I don’t, I had to go to yet another store…Dillard’s, where I was commandeered by a super aggressive middle aged woman with a thick and menacing Russian accent…
“You not need skinny pants. They make you look like fool. You need straight or classic. These. You try these on…now!!”
I hurried into the changing room as fast as I could and locked the door! The pants she had given me were actually perfect khaki pants. They fit beautifully and were exactly the right color. When I exited the changing room the Russian woman was standing like five feet from the door. She took the pants from me quickly, “You buy these now!”
When she rang them up they were insanely expensive…but there was no way in hades I was going to give this woman any trouble. I paid for them while flashing a nervous smile. To break the considerable tension I attempted to make conversation…
“So, you have an interesting accent. You from Russia?”
At this point, my mask-wearing saleswoman stopped what she was doing, stared at me while slowly lowering the mask, revealing clinched teeth, “I am Lithuanian.” She spoke the country of her birth an octave lower…then smiled broadly, replaced her mask. “You nice man.”
Finally, my two day pants buying mission was over. An international incident was avoided and I spent more money on a pair of khakis than I ever have my entire life.
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