Confessions of a baggy pant wearer.
Alternate title: Things your daughter didn’t think she’d be photographing today. Bless her.
Confession. I love harem pants. Slouch pants, low crotch (google at you own risk) pants, happy pants. Call them what you will, call me what you will, I love them.
My absolute favourite pair are over two years old now. They have a small hole in a side pocket, but I am prepared to obtain and use needle and thread to fix them. Such is my love for this cotton garment.
I read an interview with an up and coming Melbourne designer a few weekends ago, in which he spoke of his love for this baggy arsed attire. He argued he loved the gender neutrality of them. I could not agree more. (I have searched high and low for the interview and can not find it – nor remember his name, if anyone knows, I’d love to know.)
I know this makes me tragic, and I am aware I am all kinds of hammer time wrong. But I just don’t care. My love of these pants began in the late eighties. I was a teenager, I went to a uniform free school for years 11 and 12. It was all baggy pants and big hair. MC Hammer – he may have made them famous, but I wore them first.*
What clothing item are you overly attached to?
*This may or may not be an entirely accurate statement.
