Remember how I claimed that I would never wear pants again, because I had found incredibly adorable hounds-tooth shorts, and they didn’t have to come in extra-long, because I could just wear tights. Tights are the tall girl’s solution to pants.
Well, all of this was rather said in a fit of desperation because I just couldn’t find any pants. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want pants, but that pants didn’t want me. I spoke in anger. My old standby Gap jeans (that come in long) weren’t working anymore; I couldn’t seem to find any with a lycra blend that would go up over my ballet-calves. American Eagle, that come in long, are extremely low-rise, which is great if you’re 14 (their target audience I’m sure, if all the crop tops are anything to go by), but not great if you’re 24, with no waist to speak of. You need a bit of hip to wear low-rise pants, or else, in the words of my cousin’s bridesmaid Lauren (yes confusing) “your ghetto booty hangs out.” And nobody wants that. I couldn’t find a pant long enough, high enough, stretchy enough, to suit me. I was destined to wear tights for all eternity.
Then on Saturday, after hanging out with friends, Hil and I attempted to flag down a cab, a near impossible Herculean feat in our city because cabs are sadly sparse, when we ran into our brother. He was just going to grab some pizza and walk home, so we walked with him. I, in my tights, hands shoved deep into my pockets, having forgotten my mittens at home, shivered the whole way. I rather think I caught a chill, if that’s still a medical thing, and not just something the Brontë sisters wrote about after their heroines roamed around misty moors shouting things. In either case, I couldn’t get warm the whole next day.
So I head back out to the mall, resolved to find a pair of pants or die trying because it was either that, or death by hypothermia in my near future. And I found these!
Bless Old Navy. All their pants come in short, medium and long. They have three different rises for three different levels of booty (mine is apparently “semi-curvy”), and they’re dirt cheap. You have no idea how much of a revelation this is for me. How life changing this is! I’m going to go back and buy two of every wash, so I never have to go through the agony of jean-hunting again.
I’ll still wear you, you glorious hounds tooth shorts. Just not when it’s -20.