A high class of trash in New York City.

I'm mildly astonished this pair of pants I scrounged up manages to fit so well. I found them, washed them, figured if they didn't fit I could drop them off for fabric recycling - but they fit well enough I'm going to wear them as summer house pants. They're cut a bit above the ankle, like capris, and while that's going to take some getting used to, everything else about them is genuinely fine. Except the price point, which was nothing, and that simply can't be beat.

I still feel that each day I put on pants with pockets and a zipper is a day I've taken a stance against entropy. Jeans, maybe, maybe not. It's the zipper and pockets that are the important semiotics to me.