Monday, August 17, 2009

The Devil Wears Disco Pants

I can’t dance to save my soul; but that most certainly wouldn’t prohibit me from selling it in exchange for American Apparel’s The Disco Pant.

Unlike the typical legwear out and about for the approaching fall season, The Disco Pant is neither legging nor tight; denim or leather. Rather, it’s the most devilishly delicious combination of all of the above. Nylon spandex construction provides a liquid legging like stretchy trouser; while the metal zipper and button closure paired with the fabulously high, deep back pockets add the traits we all know and love, synonymous with the trusty denim lurking within our dresser drawers.

The true tour de force, however, is the fact that, skintight and high-waisted as they are, they manage to nip, tuck, and suck all of the places that we alpha females are most insecure about, procuring a slinky silhouette; while making us stand-out from the crowd in the most wondrous of ways.

Please don’t start with your nonsensical moaning and groaning, kittens. I simply won’t hear of it. Save your ornery proclamations and declarations, broadcasts and decrees for another time and place, they will merit no acknowledgements or attention from yours truly. I simply don’t care if you are under the impression that you are without a place to don these divas – you’re wrong. There is a time and place for every article of clothing, including The Disco Pant.

I’m too good to be true. The perky, girl-next door Sandy Olsson from Grease. But I don’t want to be the goody two-shoe. I long to tease my hair, smear on vampy red lipstick, cover my eyes in smoky shades and hues, and be, at the risk of sounding clichéd…bad to the bone. With The Disco Pant in Black encasing my lower half…no more miss nice girl. Olivia Newton-John, eat your heart out!

It seems a strange combination to hop from an afternoon tour of the Eiffel Tower directly onto a train that leads into a night of dancing and dining about the Cote d’Azur – a place to see and be seen once darkness falls. Even so, I must seize the opportunity to make a lasting impression on the cute French boys; The Disco Pant in Red will make a fiery impact and leave the prize of Paris eating out of my hand.

Scram, vamoose, scat, begone! It doesn’t matter to me how you hightail it out of my wardrobe loathsome Oxford shirts, with your starched bodies and preppy collars, guilelessly get out. I’m sick of the air of stuffiness you seemingly add to all of my ensembles. The morbid bore you’ve so simply transformed me into. But wait…there is one way I can fight you; one thing in my closet you can’t possibly destroy. A white Oxford tucked into The Disco Pant in Midnight Navy. Cherry red tap shoes encasing my tootsies. Serenity, sheer serenity. Oxford shirts…I’ve just ordained you a possibility; thanks to The Disco Pant, that is.

In case you haven’t heard…oui, the devil wears disco pants.

Fashionably yours!

Thanks to American Apparel for the pictures.

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