Trouser Trouble

You've seen it instance after instance after instance: I rarely wear clothing from the waist down.

Ever wonder why?

No ... it's not because I'm a closet nudist. (Though, there is something to be said for the freedom one maintains in so being.)

The reason is because I used to have a major problem with trousers. Just as Clark and Jeff have confessed theirs, "chino collecting" used to be my personal accounting free-for-all.

I got jacked over jodhpurs. I couldn't say "No!" to corduroy. I died for the denim. And I looked chill in the chaps ... and I knew it.

Slacks simply "did it" for me. And I bought them by the ton. 

I'd plunk down a grand easily for a pair of Earnest Sewn Custom Fits without a second thought ...

Come on: Who wouldn't?

Truth be told, I couldn't purchase just a single pair. Half a dozen was the least amount I could walk out the door without feeling slighted.

In dressier moods, a go-to slack would be my beloved Santorelli "Luxury Serge" Double Pleated Wool Trousers.

Yeah ... these babies make me look  g o o d  ...

And those front wools ... HELLO!
 

Comfort and good looks. Woof ...

I could go on and on and on.

And on.

So ... what's a guy to do?

I'll tell you what a trouser glutton like me did: I went cold turkey. 

"Michael ... you're out of control tops ..." my accountant told me one day. "See what I did there? I tried easing into it by cracking wise ..."

"I'm not amused," I responded.

"Seriously," he straightened and looked sternly at me. "Your slack purchasing mannerisms end TODAY. It's criminal how much you spend on pants, unconscionable. You can't possibly wear that many in any given week. It's left no room for anything you actually need like food, gas, beach volleyball magazine subscriptions. Think man: How will you amount to anything but a one good looking dude in Loro Piana Cashmere without a dime to his name?"

He had a point.

"I'm going to give it to you straight ... and this is in no way meant to be a come on: You'd 'have it going on' even if you didn't wear pants. And you'd have a whole lot more pocket change, too. Just without any pockets to put the change in ..."

I wasn't convinced. 

But he showed me the numbers, he spread the spread sheets before me and proved his point in glaring detail.

Numbers don't lie.

So I made a decision before walking out of his office: I went cold turkey on the trousers. I doffed my drawers, right then and there, and took the plunge so to speak.

"What the hell are you doing?!?" my account cried out, surprised.

"If I'm going to do this, I need to start now," I reasoned.

"Dude ... *yeesh* ... at least keep your underwear on so you don't get arrested for indecent exposure ..." he suggested.

And then? After "adjusting" as it were, I walked out that office in nothing but boxer briefs from the waist down, my trousers left on his office floor.

And I must admit: I'm a better man for it today.

Now ... I'm not the complete fool. I wear slacks when the occasion calls for it. I'm not some weirdo, after all.

But I realized an important lesson that day: I had just as much confidence out of pants as I did in them.
 

After all ...when you fight crime? You have to be confident.