I said what I said, and I may have said it from a place rooted in years of personal trauma, but there comes a time in every fashion connoisseur’s life when realization hits like a bolt of lightning: beloved, it’s time to retire chino pants. Yes, you heard me right. I’m calling it out. My revival of this deep-seated disdain for those abominable trousers arose during a recent endeavor where I was researching attire suitable for the New England Fall 2024 Look Book blog post. It’s funny how life circles back to haunt you with memories you’d rather keep buried in the depths of your closet.
Now, you’re probably wondering where all this vehement dislike spawns from. Allow me to paint you a picture: a girl, dressed in a private school uniform, navigating the corridors of academia for what felt like an eternity – sixteen years, to be precise. Chinos, those drab, ill-fitting pants, were a staple of my mandatory wardrobe, and over time, they became the bane of my existence. They were more than just pants; they became a symbol of conformity and restriction, akin to shackles that suppressed creative expression. I have a visceral reaction to them, a feeling akin to whatever emotion transcends hate – let’s call it “super-hate” for now. In fact, my hate for these pants is so severe, that when i see people wearing them, I feel like they’ve never had an original thought.
Those years ingrained in me a deep aversion that I can’t quite shake off. After spending such a significant chunk of my life in them, enduring countless days encased in beige, navy, or sometimes, if the universe felt particularly cruel, khaki chinos, I emerged with a passionate plea for liberation from this fashion tyranny. It is time to retire chino pants. Fast forward to adulthood, and I’m baffled by the legions of individuals in white-collar jobs, many of whom I suspect also endured private or parochial school dress codes, who willingly choose to don these hideous pants daily. It’s as if they’ve embraced them as a uniform once again, a sartorial Stockholm Syndrome if you will. With a plethora of alternative pants available – chic trousers, tailored slacks, even jeans in myriad forms – why, oh why, would one gravitate back to chinos?
I understand the argument for comfort and ease. After all, a world in which one can casually reach into their closet and pull out something familiar, something that fits the established code without much thought, is compelling. But that, I argue, is precisely the problem. When did we allow fashion to become so… monotonous? When did we trade our right to self-expression for the convenience of homogeneous attire? Chinos, in their insipid ubiquity, have slithered their way into the heart of what I call the “beige plague” – a trend towards neutral, safe, and ultimately dull aesthetics that threaten to engulf our vibrant personalities!!!!!
Maybe…maybe I should get of the soap box for a moment…
The irony of fashion is that it often clings to the very conventions it seeks to break. We see the cyclical nature of trends, the constant reinvention of the old as new. Yet, for some reason, chinos have remained impervious, steadfast in their banality. This mystifies me. As I delve deeper into researching current fashion trends and creating look books that inspire, I can’t help but wonder why chinos persist. Who decided that these pants, born from military uniformity and later adopted by Ivy League preppiness, should dominate our corporate apparel?
Imagine a world where we allow ourselves to explore the sartorial spectrum fully. A place where wide-legged trousers in vibrant hues make statements in boardrooms, where pinstripe pants and houndstooth patterns dance down the hallways. Picture structured culottes, sleek joggers, and tailored jeans speaking volumes about our personalities. It’s all within reach, if only we liberate ourselves from the shackles of dated norms.
I am not advocating for a complete abandonment of practicality – fashion should balance between form and function. But there’s a plethora of options that offer both comfort and a sense of individuality. The high-waisted, the flared, the cropped, and the palazzo – the world of fashion pants is vast and varied, begging to be explored and embraced.
Perhaps my disdain is steeped in nostalgia, rooted in those formative years of uniformity. But as I sit here now, pondering the evolving nature of fashion, I’m reminded of the power of change…and that the fact that chinos are really fucking ugly.