This is just an outfit post.
You may recognize these pants. It's not because your mother wore them in 1981, or even because you're a professional parachuter and recall using an uncannily similar silhouette last time you jumped out of a plane. No. You recognize these simply because...
They are the original fupa pants. I've also blogged about them before.
And in that post, I shared a really sweet anecdote that chronicled a series of Parisian events that started while I was wearing the parachutes in question, and ended when warm weather subsided and I could no longer wear such thin light wash denim. In this event, my relationship status went from void to Lloyd. Provided his name was Lloyd, which it wasn't. It only lasted a moment, however, cue some large shoulder pads. But that's a story for another time. In fact, all the aforementioned seems like a story for another time. Ultimately, I just wanted to keep you informed, let you know I pulled these pants back out last week and in an instant become one with my old self again.
That is to say, a pastel fish. I should also note, however, that they are excellent pants to wear should you find yourself amongst a large group of rowdy men with weeners for brains. Repellent indeed.
That's all I got. Except to tell you I can't stop making fake eyeglasses with my fingers because to me they look exactly like Prada's baroque ones.
See? No? Weird, look again.
Mine are just a tad bit cooler because a. I DIYed them and b. they feature arm parties!
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