Adventures in guilty pleasures: The skinny on skinnies

I am fully aware of just how awful skinny jeans look on me. Doesn’t stop me from wearing them, though. In fact, it doesn’t stop a lot of people from cutting a heavy-hipped, short-legged figure that any sensible person trying to attain or maintain any level of self-esteem would consider adopting. Yet here we are; at the dusk of decade-long flare-leg stranglehold, we are in the midst and possibly tail end of the most obvious possible reactionary trend: the revival of taper-leg pants.

I could say that my purpose in wearing them is pragmatic – is there anything worse than soaked pant cuffs from walking in the rain? I think not. But it is really because, in the words of Andy Warhol, I am a deeply superficial person. I wear them in an (oft-failed) effort to dress according to an ephemeral and meaningless aesthetic.

But for all my vanity, I do still cling to my flare-leg pants – about a dozen pairs’ worth – despite the fact that they are being phased out. I wear them because they look good and fit well and I’m not sorry that I still love them. We’ve had some good times together, times I wouldn’t trade for anything – not even poorly-fitting tapered legs.

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