Wednesday 28 January 2009

MEN IN TROUSERS ( part 1 )

Having just return to London from a month away in the French countryside consequently I have found that I now possess the most curious powers of observation that allow me to idle away my time at traffic lights in my borrowed rather old red colt observing snap shot glimpses of other peoples’ movements and their imaginary lives.

The more I write the more apparent it is that my most creative amblings take place in my car, the upside of London’s traffic is that it allows me to do this. Normally on an everyday A –B journey from west to south London my powers of observation usually draw me to random faces in the street whom by some mysterious universal power unbeknown to me manage to connect eyes with me even perhaps when I’m travelling at 30. My other usual tendencies are to twist my head so far around whilst driving that one would think I’m trying to emulate an owl, all for the interesting display of antiques in a shop window in particular one shop on the corner of Wandsworth bridge road. Perhaps I might also find myself gazing with a mixture of admiration, regret and wisdom at some young girl who has tooth pick legs poking out of a ra ra skirt resting on a peachy bottom with everything that youth has to offer on her side. Whilst staring at her I also observe about 3 other men staring in her direction too.

Oh the powers of observation and imagination can make for a far more interesting time alone. On this particular day though such is the feeling of abnormality at doing my A-B from west to south after a month away, that my eye is caught by a mature gentleman on a back street in Chelsea who is filling his meter next to his rather old and inconspicuous silver estate. I noticed that he was balding but was the owner of a faded tan that had turned his crown golden. He had a friendly face that carried laughter lines and deep inset eyes that had soften at the edges through time flanked by crowsfeet all of which gave him an air of gentle sophistication and perhaps a man who had known wealth in his time. Then my eyes lowered and before I could even take in his shirt and and jumper I was overcome by the muted red trousers he was wearing. Red trousers! Well immediately I jumped to the assumption that he was of course a Sloane ranger, bohemian, clearly had money, had a creative streak (obviously being expressed in the wrong way) and most probably a member of the Chelsea Arts Club.

Seriously though what is it with men and red trousers? To be clear I’m describing a particular type of red trouser. The one that is either a jean, cheeno or cord, a shade of red that could not qualify trendy or even euro trash which would be more of a shocking lipstick red. This red is a deeper red that could even translate as odd shade of dark pink to the foreign eye once faded by the many spins and cycles it’s endured through the washing of time.

One of my father’s friends can also from time to time be found clad in these rather unstylish and pointless pantalons that are a beacon for all to see pointing to the rather obvious flaw in his character. Who in their right mind would choose to be seen in public wearing them? It was this question that spurred me on and caused me to pose the question what do trousers say about their owners? Women spend their lives being mercilessly judged on their appearance and we are all well aware that what we put on in the morning can affect how we are received during our day. Our clothes represent our mood, our personality, our sense of identity, our femininity, our sexual awareness and our empowerment. Our clothes say soo much about us so what do men’s trousers say about them?

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