I’m not one to keep tabs on trends. Not in a nose in the air, I’m too good for you and your limited fashion knowledge way. Nor in a hipster, I liked Kings of Leon when they still had beards way. Closer to the truth, the majority of what end up as online colour stories or email newsletters are built solely for the Amazon women and Riccardo Tisci muses – neither of which translate, even loosely, to tanned Asian.
So it is not surprising that neither ‘Pyjama Chic’ nor ‘Innerwear-as-Outerwear’ were never supposed to work out for me, or anybody else for that matter. Like Normcore, both require meticulously natural hair-and-makeup four hours in the making, Hans Feurer or Alexis Lubomirski, bare minimum garments at astronomical prices, and next to no chest endowment to speak of. At the very least, I have the last criterion nailed. And I’m halfway there with the penultimate – I’d being hawk-eying these Chloé trousers on every single online stockist until they all went on sale, then immediately sold out on all but Farfetch. I will preach, too, that they are now the most comfortable pants I own (even more so than my drop-crotch leathers), and that for anything designer pieces do to hurt your bank account, they will make up for in not chaffing/sticking/scratching/ripping for the eternity in which you continue to wear them.
At least, that is the case for Chloé.
I ended up living in limited modifications of this outfit for the first two weeks of July. I will blame part of this on New York’s face-melting mid-Summer heat, which I’d never before experienced, and for which I was heavily unprepared. As I get terrible road rage, I take the subway and walk as much as possible, which unfortunately had me turning up to meetings sweaty and disheveled to the point where I’d almost be better off being ten minutes late for stint in the ladies’ room.
So, dude sprinting down Park Ave in a full suit and tie?
Not worth it.
Meanwhile, the more corporate Midtown folk questioned the completeness of my dressing routine every morning, the more I thought a) oh please and b) whether the price tag of a garment increases its aesthetic appeal in our eyes, as a result of luxury credibility. Or something. I’m not even referring to quality, in the way that my Mother (who is currently renovating) thinks that some particular cut of spotted gum timber will make for better floorboards just because they are more expensive. I’m considering that, beyond what Queen Carine tells us to do, a designer dollar sign may sometimes sway us in favour of buying a product because it must be a good look to wear, rather than deterring the purchase because it’s expensive.
Although I wouldn’t see myself as falling under this spell on every purchase, and certainly not this pair of trousers, I’m sure there is many a consumer psychology study to be run alongside the reasons why designer goods cost what they do. Does pricing as high as Balenciaga mean that your brand is perceived at the same level as Balenciaga? Does the fact that Kenzo and Carven‘s prices, on the most part, are extremely reasonable for the quality of the product, mean that they are not to be classed as high-end or even luxe-contemporary brands, and that you and I might fork out an extra two hundred bucks for something ‘better’?
To that, my pyjama pants say they don’t give a damn.
Because they’re awesome.