When I was preparing for my Michigan-to-Miami (area) move in January, I insinuated that if I wanted to fit in, I'd need to obtain white pants, blond extensions and augmented breasts. These jesting comments were a conciliatory nod to my stuck-in-Michigan friends; an olive branch of sorts - I acknowledged that, while, yes, I was moving to a much warmer, hipper locale, the new digs would come with some cheesy accompaniments.
Where was I?...ah, yes. The white pants. For all the snarky commentary and Will Smith references made in the past, I have deemed the previously offensive pantaloons to be a necessary evil. If March (save for the last two days) already is sunnier then the standard Michigan July, dark pants are not going to suffice. Add to that, the Museum is kept at a "comfortable" 47 degrees Fahrenheit, making dresses and skirts an equally unappealing option for everyday office wear. Enter the dreaded white pants. Where does this hostility towards this rather benign attire originate?
People's Exhibit #1, minute 2:38:
White pants can theoretically be a chic summer wardrobe staple. Paired with a solid colored top and a great pair of heels, they look super on those willowy, transparent Vogue girls. Then, you snap back to the real world and your reflection in the mirror at the Banana Republic fitting room and you begin to understand that unless you find a better option, you could potentially walk around in public looking like an exhibitionist Gilligan.
Aside from choosing wide-leg, lined styles, how can I make this work? The countdown to the summer meltdown is ticking away. If this mission fails, I'll simply have to stick with skirts and dresses for work, but pick up one of these, probably in blue:
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