I am a girly-girl. Guilty as charged.
But by profession and passion, I am a full-blown, fashion-obsessed stylist for The Post. I’ve learned how to tackle all kinds of trends for my readers while still maintaining a look in tandem with my personality: crystal headpieces, a flirty frock or skirt, a pair of eye-catching heels. (Heart-shaped purse optional.)
Pants have never been a part of my wardrobe equation. When I was a child, my mother — who can best be described as effortlessly chic — styled me in dresses with Peter Pan collars and lace trims, and they set the tone for how I would eventually clothe myself. Being a Cincinnati private-school girl meant I spent most school days in my plaid dress uniform, and on Free-Dress Fridays, everyone knew I would break out my black miniskirt. I even joined, and eventually captained, the girls’ tennis team because of those perfectly pleated white skirts.
PHOTOS: THE PANTS THAT CONVERTED ANAHITA
I proudly carried my anti-trouser torch throughout my teen, college and postgrad years, actively avoiding any article of clothing with two long legs like they were an acid-wash cropped top (which, ironically, I now covet and own in two colors). As time passed, I experimented with skinny jeans, and occasionally donned the random pair of boyfriend jeans (on-location fashion shoots can take you to unexpectedly swampy places). But on days when I was forced into wearing them, I scurried around with my head down, feeling very unfeminine and, ultimately, totally unlike myself.
Fast-forward to July 2012. While deep into requesting looks for a “surfer girl” story, I stumbled upon a pair of Jimmy Taverniti denim pants. They were so not me: a cropped silhouette and baggy crotch, bearing a washed-out, almost preppy navy-and-white vertical-stripe pattern. Nary a sparkle or feather in sight! But my stylist instinct kicked in, guiding me to give this pair a chance: both for my photo shoot and for myself. Maybe these will look as nonchalantly cool on me as they do on the model? Ha! I quietly placed them into my online shopping cart (a big thank you, shopbop.com), convinced that the $138.60 sale price was a sign: These were The Pants.
They arrived. I tried them on. And they fit perfectly. That cool-girl look that I never thought could be me, suddenly was — and I started to wear The Pants everywhere.
I crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge in them for Saturday night cocktails in Brooklyn Heights. They became my go-to for bike rides, and long weekends in Woodstock were taken to new heights now that I could hike in The Pants.
I even almost went into a “Now what do I wear?!” panic mode when I realized The Pants had to spend a few days at the dry cleaner. And those neon coral Vans I’ve struggled to pair with my otherwise ethereal wardrobe? They’re perfect with The Pants!
A close male friend — who has witnessed some of my most over-the-top frock moments — recently saw me in them and exclaimed, “Are you wearing pants? You look like a grandfather in those! But you have never looked cuter. Ever.”
Imagine my excitement when, this fall, designers started offering pants in a range of colors and styles, boasting embellishments and graphic prints. I grabbed even more pairs, and they’ve started to give my closet an exciting sense of endless possibilities. That black Topshop pair with the white vertical stripe? Not something I would’ve even acknowledged pre-Pants, but paired with a pale pink sweater, a classic Manolo Blahnik pump and a polished ponytail — and voila! I have mastered this season’s sporty chic trend while still feeling totally like myself.
I’ll forever be a dress girl, but knowing that I can be comfortable wearing pants makes the catwalk of life seem that much more wonderfully limitless.
amoussavian@nypost.com
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