The pants are back.
Somehow I've stumbled into a fashionable valley where everything below the belt is the most important aspect of my sartorial decisions. Posh pants if you will. From sequined palazzo to leathered and cuffed, a statement pant is my drug of choice. And by drug, I mean the unnatural fabric that usually make the biggest statements in any given clothing combination. And now I seem to be comparing my white chiffon palazzo pants to cocaine. Hmm not my best work.
Although I do love the weight of a simple cotton dress on hot days like today, I often come back to my trusty printed/pleated/patterned pants. There's something about a poised lady in a great pair of structured pants that screams "I am the pants!" Which could also mean something like, feminism hear me roar and I don't need a man and I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T. I bet you don't think these things when you put on a pair of pants, I don't really either.
In conclusion, I am really on an independent woman kick and I like pants, especially these pants. The two thoughts aren't actually related.
I paired my curtain-like pants with a cropped long sleeve black shirt, baring a modest sliver of tummy flesh. To counteract any lingering scandalous intentions from showing a little midriff skin I added my oversized army vest. Sexy cannot penetrate a studded army vest, it's a proven fact.