I wore the fiesta pants in public.
This actually happened a couple of weeks ago, but I was reticent to post this because of the inevitable shame it would bring upon me and my spotless sartorial reputation (snark, snark). To be fair, “public” was a park during a weeknight at a samba band rehearsal, so I feel like if there is an appropriate "public" venue for these to be, a samba rehearsal in a heavily wooded area would be it. A bandmate was even feeling as sartorially, uh, randy as I was and got in on the action:
You may remember this post from awhile back: the fiesta pants have become a fixture (or formidable foe) among my group of friends in Boise. These truly are pants only a mother could love. I hang onto them not only because they're fabulously warm and cozy, but also because their offensiveness seems to be universal: everyone I've introduced them to in Seattle has had a similar reaction of disgust and disdain. This is what I love about Seattle: it brings out the free-spirited, devil-may-care side of me that likes to wear what I like. Would I wear this to work? Certainly not. This city embraces its quirkiness, and if you need further proof of that, come check out the Brazilian samba band I'm in, VamoLa!, at the Fremont Fair Solstice Parade this weekend!
Abraços,
-dau
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