Trousers are awesome. You can move in them! (Table stakes for me I guess, if you have been reading these posts for a while.) You can put things in the pockets! And then if you forget about them, as I usually do, you can find a nice surprise the next time you wear them. Cash is obviously the best, but a loose breath mint or a memorable ticket stub is nice too. Recently I found a small piece of rubber clothing for a Polly Pocket doll that my youngest played with constantly. (I had children far enough apart to remember both generations of Polly Pockets: the very chokeable, thumbnail-sized ones from the 90s and then these bendier ones that you could dress up.) The particular tactile sensation flooded over me and I knew exactly what it was (a tiny dress made of rubber) without having to look. These pants were at the back of my closet and I guess it had been a dozen years or so since I wore them last.
Aside from the pockets full of memories… and the movement they allow… trousers make me feel like I have made slightly more of an effort than other kinds of pants. Especially this time of year I can get lazy — jeans and cowboy boots and a cashmere sweater are my default. Maybe a jacket. So the thing you and I both need for exactly right now is our new Frankie Pant. It is a trouser… but a khaki… so casual enough to sub in for jeans. We have this constant go-round with the Design Team — is a khaki a style of pant? A color? A fabric? The answer: all 3!
Much like the Polly Pockets, I remember several awesome eras of khakis. The baggy, unisex ones from those great Gap ads from the 90s (this one is great, too) — khakis at their most minimal AND energetic! And then the lower-rise versions of the 2000s, paired with sparkles à la Jenna Lyons at J.Crew. A look that I absolutely copied more than a few times. But the strongest association for me with khaki trousers is my friend Grace. We worked together for years at Glamour magazine and never once did I see her in jeans. Strictly trousers. She was from Philadelphia’s Main Line… which of course makes me think of Katharine Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story. Can you think of anyone more iconic when it comes to trousers?
Before I met Grace, I had not spent any time in that part of the country. And maybe it was just HER Philadelphia, but that place is DIFFERENT. She came from a family that even Wes Anderson could not have dreamt up. Their home was plopped down in the middle of town, somehow surrounded by acres and acres of countryside. It was architecturally modern, unlike all their traditional neighbors, and even had an INDOOR POOL. It was filled with antiques from Asia and ancient rugs and fine China and silver that looked like it had been passed down from the Founding Fathers. Talk about a mix. (And for the record, I am quite certain that her mother never once looked at any kind of decorating magazine for inspiration — her eclecticism was from the heart, not studied or styled. Those were just the things they had, and of course, they would fill their home with them.) And Grace, too, had inherent style. And the foundation of that style was TROUSERS. She favored a high waist, and she may have even made a few pairs for herself. Like her mother, Grace’s kind of style did not come from magazines or what would today be Pinterest boards or scrolling through Instagram. It came from her unique upbringing and observations. Just the way she was and the way she had been raised.
We have so many visual references now, all of which are fantastic and inspiring — but this was the late 1980s and our influences were limited to a few magazines and the 20-something photos that would appear in them every month. In this context, Grace’s point of view struck me as truly unique, and I was constantly watching to see what else she could teach me. Trousers with a blouse buttoned up to the top (no need for sexiness with Grace — she was too cool for that, or maybe it was some Philadelphian conservatism,) maybe a paisley scarf on top for the tiniest bit of extra. Grace’s influence lasted long after our time as coworkers — we are still friends to this day. About fifteen years ago, she whisked two of my daughters up to join her sons at the Assembly Ball, which has been going on since 1748.
Of course she had plenty of spare elbow-length gloves for them to borrow (mandatory for attendance) as well as furs for their shoulders. Again… that is the kind of girl she is. Grace herself wore a strapless dress that had belonged to her mother… and was trimmed in MONKEY FUR. I am sorry to all the animal rights activists reading this — I am only an observer in Grace’s kooky world.
The Frankie is a base that you can build on… nearly anything can go on top and look fantastic. Neutral bottom, simple OR complicated on top. It's lower in the waist than Grace preferred, but in my mind a bit more flattering for most. It has those great side pockets for your stuff, and belt loops if you want to add an extra touch. (For me, loops still make a belt optional, although Sid would disagree.) They are made of a linen-heavy cotolino, although to me they feel pretty seasonless. And while not exactly cropped, the hem is short enough that you can wear either flats or heels with them.
I have written about khaki pants and uniform dressing in previous posts (had to go back and look… whoa… so many words over the years). But these pants are more special, I think. They signify both confidence and style… both things Grace has in spades… I promise! Give them a try. You just might need them.
