All in the name of fashion

I didn't want to say anything. But deep down inside, I knew this day would come eventually.

You see. I've tried to ignore it. I've turned the other way when the straight-leg jean started making its appearance in stores. I averted my eyes from the dreaded skinny jean. I ignored the leggings, knowing there was no hope that I would ever be able to wear them anyway.

But I'm a slave to fashion. And I can't ignore its evil, cyclical ways forever. I saw it coming a few years ago when they brought back the goucho. We were headed down a very bad path that could only lead us straight back to the one fashion decade I sword I would never revisit: the 80s.

I knew I wouldn't be able to hold my ground forever. And in this case, it was really about the boots.

You know how I love the boots. The high-heeled boots. The fur-lined boots. The cowboy boots. Even the shoots.

And my closet full of boots was starting to seem kind of pointless when they were always hidden underneath my boot-cut jeans. Tucking the wide stretches of fabric into the boot was pointless. It couldn't be done.

Unless, of course, I had...

You know...

Dare I say it...

Some... a-hem... stirrup pants.

It's true. And with a long sweater and some tall boots, I wouldn't look THAT fat, would I? I mean you can only really see the pants for about 12 inches between the top of the boots and the bottom of the sweater.

And yes. I know I do look a little like an English woman getting ready to mount her horse. I just need one of those equestrian sticks. What on earth do they call those things?

I have a very firm belief that I hold tight in the depths of my being: Most women look their best in a wide-leg trouser. No one looks good in a tapered leg. Not even a supermodel. And the only thing worse than a tapered leg is stirrup pants.

But it had to be done. Fashion was calling, and I had to answer. They are mine. The pant with the removable stirrup. Just feeling that stretch of elastic under my foot makes me want to break out into a Boy George song. "Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cr-y-y-y?"

Now, all I can do is hope and pray that no one in the fashion industry gets the bright idea to bring back the knickers.

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