There is trouser trouble afoot. All of mine fell apart simultaneously – a function of finding some I didn’t hate, bulk-buying them, then wearing nothing else for the past eight years. This leaves me needing more, which in 2023 is a terrible place to be.
It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s not like buying a swimsuit, or spectacles, activities for which I would happily be placed in a medically induced coma, leaving someone else to choose for me. But judging by my targeted ads, trouser consensus has collapsed entirely, leaving an anarchic free-for-all of style and fabric. Scrolling the gen Z resale app Depop confirms it: crops, ruching, massive flares, “Y2K” combats and patterns so reminiscent of a Magic Eye poster I expect a unicorn to appear from the crotch.
