Contrary to previous fashion mantras, you can wear white all year round. That said, I still don it more frequently in the May to September time frame. White, in all of its crisp freshness, makes me think of classics, and summer, and lounging on the boat. But one component of the summer whites season always confounds me. The white pants.
I love white pants in the summer time but there should be some guidelines.1. Buy the right size. What one might be able to pull off in an extra snug black pant does NOT work the same with white. What black pants camouflage, white pants highlight.
2. Wear appropriate undergarments. Hot pink a la polka dots are not a wise choice. Oh, yes, I know, the polka dots are white. Guess what isn’t white? The hot PINK part.
3. Scotchguard those babies before you ever wear them. You will have a less tricky time getting out spills if you spritz them with some Scotchguard first. And once you have christened them with red wine, strawberry daiquiri, or ketchup, get the bleach on them or kiss them goodbye.
4. Wash them after every or every other wear. Long term wearing makes them look gray.
But even keeping all of this in mind, I go through the white pants obstacle course every year to find the perfect pair. I fuss and fight with them because they all fit differently. Some you handwash, some you dryclean, some you machine dry, some you hang dry. Why so complicated?
White shorts: Why are you a magnet for everything that is not white? Why, when I wear you for a few hours do I, like Peter Cottontail, appear as if I bounced through the briars on my way through Mr. McGregor's garden? Apparently, when I wear you I can only drink milk and handle powdered sugar.
White linen pants: I love you. You are perfect for the boat, brunch, cocktails, or a stroll down the boardwalk. Why don't I wear you? Oh, that is right. Now I remember. I hate you. Even the best linen pants fail me for two reasons. 1: No matter the care taken to treat you gently, you look like something Rip Van Winkle slept in. For a decade. 2: Even when you are the perfect size, after sitting in you for more than an hour, you look like a diaper. With legs.
White cotton pants: Oh you are tricky. You appear so smooth and crisp at first. You also attract dirt. What am I, a chimney sweep? And the only way to keep you precise is to iron you. And I live in Atlanta where there is simply no need to turn on appliances or gadgets that produce heat when it is 102 outside.
White denim: I like you. Until I buy you. And then you gather cobwebs in my closet because I knew when I slid that AmEx card across that counter, I don't like white denim. It's like eating fat-free ice cream, I want to like you, but I don't have it in me.
White spandex /cotton blend: Hmmm. You really had me for a second. I loved you at first sighting. I tried you on and you fit perfectly. And then I turned to catch the backside glimpse.
You are a destroyer of the good mood. Why do I say this? Because that glimpse made it look like I slipped a giant inflated white life raft in my skivs. WTH? If I wanted to highlight my arse like a spotlight was shining on it, I would not wear pants.
I am fussy about the white pants and how they fit. Everyone else seems to look smashing in them. Except the hot pink underwear girl. And then I saw this photo of Jennifer Lopez. Leading back to my original question. If Jennifer Lopez can wear white pants, why can't I? She doesn't mind a little junk in the all white trunk. She says, I will rock these tight whites. I will let my booty in white pants freak flag fly. Why don't you? I need that gene code.
I don't even have half that situation going on but white pants make it look like it. Let's hope the two pairs I just purchased from Banana Republic can do it for me. I will be prancing around in them as I meet my BFF Marcia Garcia at the airport tomorrow and we fly to my favorite city NYC for the next four days. I will surely be having a cocktail as next Monday is a big day for me. More to come on that. Have a fabulous weekend.