Today I wore pants. Yes, it's true. Back in July I went on a second shopping expedition that I didn't mention, it being less than a week after the shopping spree that I did kind of mention. I went to the Colorado Mills, which is an entire "mall" of "outlets." I ventured into the Geoffrey Beene store because three years ago my sister gave me a shirt from there, dark lavender polished cotton, that I absolutely adore. One of the things on my mental list of staples was a pair of khakis to replace the frayed, seven-year-old ones from the Gap. I tried a pair of actually fashionable rather than conservatively traditional pants. They have no waist band, which is a fine thing in my head. They are flat-fronted, which should make Haitch happy. They fit, not quite snugly, but certainly more fittedly than I usually allow. They are also, OMFB, size 8, which makes Geoffrey Beene my favorite source of sizing inflation.
Today I finally wore them (with the GB shirt). Egg looked at me and exclaimed that I looked nice today. I said, "I'm wearing pants!" kind of proudly, the way I claimed that I grew a lot overnight and she realized that yes, this certainly was a momentous occasion. Also I figured out the first element of the "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" drinking game: you have to drink every time Carson says "pant" for "pants."
Also Egg is leaving. At the end of September. I am bereft.