Friday, May 23, 2008

Leggings-as-pants Part 457

After Anne's rehearsal dinner a week ago, a couple of us, including Anne, went out to have a drink. While at the lovely outside bar on Bardstown Road in Louisville, Amanda told us all that she had something to tell us.

I seriously thought that she was going to announce that she and her husband were going to have a baby.

The truth was, she said, even better than her having a baby.

She gloriously whipped out a magazine clipping and handed it to me. One one side was Queen Latifah. I looked at Amanda with questions in my eyes.

"Not that side!" she said.

I turned it over.

There was Lindsay Lohan wearing, you guessed it: Leggings-as-pants. The clip reads, and I quote, "Myth: Leggings can sub for pants" as the title! It was a magazine clipping validating all that I know is true and holy in the fashion world.

Leggings do not equal pants. It says: "Gunn insists that they must be worn under an article of clothing that stops somewhere between an inch above your knee and the middle of your thigh (think a casual skirt, long tunic or shirtdress). In other words: Keep your rear covered. 'If it's shorter, then the look is vulgar,' he says." WHOO-HOO!!!!!

Amanda said she opened the magazine right to that page, like it wanted to be seen! And she had to give it to me!

Because this leggings-as-pants as the new inside joke is getting totally out of hand in a good way, I had to do what I did last night.

Last night I cleaned out my closet. A couple of days ago I found my proofs from my senior pictures, taken in August of 1999. Hal looked through them, paused, looked closer at one picture and said, "You still have this shirt."

Indeed. I still wear it all the time. The shirt is almost a decade old and is in constant rotation still.

Because of this, I am going shopping tonight for some new shirts. And to do so, I started gathering some clothing to give away.

During this purge I found something fabulous.

Yes, I found leggings.

The origin of the leggings are not for fashion purposes of any kind. Amanda and I took a modern dance class in college (I should write a whole post about that, probably) and for our recital (HA!) we needed all black dance costumes, which meant a leotard thingy and leggings. Mysteriously, the leggings have survived the move from Lexington to Erlanger to Independence to Bloomington.

So I took this picture to email to my friends:
There I am, in leggings-as-pants splendor, collar popped and all. (Ignore that I'm standing on our bed in order to get a picture, and, of course, ignore the thunder thighs! Sigh.)

Megan emailed me immediately saying, among other things: "I think I'm now terribly afraid of what might come out of that closet!"

Amanda has yet to respond.

I fear she has passed out in terror or glee. I'm not sure which.

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