A Letter From A Reader

At 63, my whole summer came down to jeans that cooked me or something that felt like giving up

I have never written anything like this before, and I want to say at the start that I am not a writer and I am not in the habit of telling other women what to wear.

But three different women asked me about my pants at lunch here in Austin on Saturday, and I have now explained it enough times that it seemed easier to write it down properly.

It started every morning of this Texas summer, standing in front of the closet in the heat, facing the same two bad choices.

Jeans that were too hot to bear, or something so comfortable I did not feel dressed.

Those were the options. Denim I was miserable in by lunchtime, or elastic-waist things that felt like I had given up. And nothing at all in between.

I did not choose that, not really. Nobody decides to be uncomfortable all summer. It is just what is in the closet, and what is in the closet is what the stores decided to sell us.

How it happens

Here is how you end up stuck. Somewhere along the way we all quietly decided that comfortable and elegant were opposites, that anything with a soft waistband must, by definition, look like something you sleep in. So we punish ourselves with waistbands that dig in, that leave a red mark, that we have to unbutton discreetly after a meal, because at least those look like real clothes.

And the comfortable trousers we do try tend to prove the point. They are cut narrow, so they cling in the heat exactly like the jeans did. Or they are shapeless and thin and hang off you like a sack. Either way you catch yourself in a shop window and think, no, and you go back to the willpower and the fan.

What I had wrong

What I had wrong was thinking the problem was me. That I simply had to pick. It turns out the problem was the cut.

The pair I have now is wide. Properly wide and long, so the fabric never touches my legs, it just falls straight down and moves like a long skirt when I walk. There is air the whole way down. And the waist is soft and stretchy and sits high and smooth, so there is nothing to dig in and nothing to unbutton after lunch. Comfortable was never the enemy of elegant. I had just never seen the two put in the same pair of pants.

The pants are called the Lorraine

They are from Iris & Nora, a small boutique here that has been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now. The style is called the Lorraine, and everything I was trying to describe above is simply how they are made.

They are wide, flowing pants in a soft gray, cut long so they drape and swing rather than cling. The waistband is a wide, shirred, stretchy band that adapts to you and sits smooth under a top, never pinching, whatever the day does to you. The fabric is light and breathable, the kind that actually helps keep you cool instead of trapping the heat. And, joy of joys, there are real pockets. I will never stop being pleased about the pockets.

I will be honest, I opened the parcel expecting to be a little disappointed, the way you are with things that sound too good on a screen. Instead I put them on standing at the foot of the bed and did that small turn you do in front of the mirror, and I actually laughed. They felt like nothing and looked like something. I have barely had them off since.

What happened at lunch

The Saturday lunch was the first real outing. I wore the Lorraine with a simple white top and my usual flat sandals, nothing clever. My friend Sue looked me up and down and told me I looked graceful, which, coming from Sue, is practically a standing ovation.

And then the questions started. The woman at the next table, then a second on her way past, then a third by the door. I gave the name three times and finally wrote it on a napkin. That is the moment I decided I had better just tell everyone at once, which is what this is.

Three things I have learned since

One. They go with far more than I expected. A plain tee and sandals for the market, a nicer blouse and a little sandal heel for dinner on the patio. Dressed up or down, they read as put-together either way, so I stopped over-thinking what to wear with them.

Two. They travel beautifully. I folded a pair into my case to see my sister and they came out of the bag ready to wear, no ironing, no fuss. Light enough that I barely noticed the weight, which at my age is its own small kindness.

Three. The soft blue is just as good. I liked the gray so much I went back for the blue, and I now own two pairs of the same pants, which is not a thing I have done since I was young. They do them from a small right up to a 3XL, the same easy cut the whole way up.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me suspicious.

The Lorraine is $47.95. It was $80.00.

My first thought, honestly, was that there had to be a catch, because comfortable wide-leg trousers that actually look elegant usually cost a great deal more than that.

There is no catch that I have found. They are a small boutique selling directly, so there is no department store taking a cut in the middle, and they run a summer sale to move the season's stock before it turns.

I did what I imagine you are doing now and went and read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some sites, which if I am honest made me trust it more. Real people, mixed opinions, mostly very good.

One woman had written, "They feel like pajamas and look like I am going somewhere. I live in them now." That was the one that decided it for me.

Then I ordered the soft blue as well, because you cannot have too many.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If we were sitting at that same table, here is what I would lean over and say. If you spend every summer stuck between jeans that are too hot and comfortable pants that feel like giving up, this is where I would start. Not because they are perfect for everyone, but because they solved the exact thing I had stopped believing could be solved.

The reason I am writing today and not next week is simple. The sale is on now, and it is the middle sizes that go first, every time. Once the summer stock is gone, it is gone until next year.

Order the size you normally wear. The waistband does the forgiving, so there is no need to size up or down.

The rarest kind of pants. The ones that feel like wearing nothing and still look like you made an effort.

That is everything I told them at lunch, and everything I would tell you. I hope they do for you what they have done for me.

— Peggy