Sometimes I think that my life would be complete if I could find the perfect pair of black wide leg pants.
And by sometimes I mean that I think this often.
And have for several years now.
The crazy thing is that they probably exist. Just not in a shop that I can afford to shop at or in a county that I’ll never go to.
That one unobtainable life changing thing is out there. Just out of my reach.
I can picture it.
Or them.
They would be long and heavy.
They would have an incredibly crisp cut but would sit high on the waist, covering that bit of muffin top that hangs over my undies on fat days.
I would wear them with a tight white shirt and red lip stick and my black Camper Mary-Janes. One of the buckles came off my shoes about a year and half ago now so I should really get them repaired just in case everything falls into place suddenly.
What price would you put on your dream?
I reckon I could almost justify $400.
They would need to be timeless though. The kind of pants that would make me look cool in my 30’s and dignified yet funky in my 50’s.
It’s not too much to ask.
Maybe I’m being shallow though?
Maybe there’s more to life that the perfect pair of pants?
Maybe it’s a metaphor?
I probably own too many pairs of black pants already.
