The 30-Wears Collection // Exhibit 004 : The Long-Lived Grey Trousers

175 wears and counting.

Welcome to to the 30-Wears Collection: a “slow catalogue” dedicated to showcasing my most-worn pieces. By writing a tribute to each item, I hope to 1) create a personal record of my closet and style as it evolves, and 2) cultivate a practice of looking inwards as much as I do outwards as an admirer of beautiful garments.

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Lately I’ve been retracing my style journey in my head, mentally pinpointing the pivotal garments that marked a paradigm shift (my first pair of skinny jeans; a polka dotted sage skirt thrifted in high school)—and those that have remained wardrobe staples along the jagged through-line of life (my mom’s black sweater).

These pants are somehow both.

• Purchased from: The Last Hunt (Naked & Famous), 2020

• Cost: $97.23

• Material: 68% Cotton, 19% Acrylic, 12% Polyester, 1% Polyurethane

• Number of wears: 175

In my early to mid-twenties, I was obsessed with minimalist wardrobes and uniform dressing. Despite my inability to truly live up to my monastic aspirations, I managed to adopt a series of signature cold weather looks that invariably featured a pair of grey pants. Every fall I’d pull out my stack in varying shades of concrete and asphalt, to be worn until bare-legged days returned. Countless pairs came into my possession over the years, from thrifted wool suit trousers that were unlined and scratchy to cheap polyester pairs that looked good until you washed them. Today, these are the only remaining artifact from that once devoted love affair, the value of a great pair of neutral trousers concentrated in this evolved, best-in-class version.

Yet, they were distinct from all the pants that came before, which were on trend with the slim-leg, high-waisted look of the day, but never felt 100% right on me. I remember the lightbulb moment those slouchy, slightly barrelled legs presented—I never wanted my thighs to be encased like sausages ever again. From there, my style identity as a “pants person” began to take shape. It kicked off an overhaul of my bottoms drawer, followed by several new pant acquisitions in increasingly daring shapes and proportions.

Product of Naked and Famous (a made-in-Canada brand I adore), these trousers were purchased near the beginning of the pandemic, a time when the future seemed uncertain and buying anything other than modest, practical clothes would’ve felt foolish. My lifestyle swung hard, from hitting up cultural events after work and swing dancing several nights a week to spending nearly all my time in a cramped apartment with only weekend hikes to look forward to. My clothing choices shifted too: veering towards an androgynous, utilitarian vibe that was spurred on by my newfound love for mycological forays as well as the survival mentality that had hijacked us all that year.

I’d been on the lookout for a pair of hard-wearing, everyday pants that was also stylish: a chameleon garment that could be outdoorsy and metropolitan. I spotted these twill trousers while browsing an online sportswear outlet, intrigued by the unique shape and the neppy texture of the twill blend. It looked familiar, yet fresh; simple, yet crafted with interesting design choices. But I was still distrustful of online shopping at the time (I was late to adopt credit card tapping, too) and was hesitant to drop a not-insignificant sum of money on pants I couldn’t try on. A year onwards, though, I hadn’t forgotten about them and they were still available, at an even deeper discount. It felt like we were fated to be together.

When I first tried them on, I thought I’d made a huge mistake. The waist was big and the crotch hung low. The relaxed, slouchy fit was so different from any pants I’d ever owned before. It took a few wears for me to get completely onboard with them, but once I did, there was no going back. They helped me unlearn the notion that pants needed to be fitted in the waist, hips, and butt to be “flattering” and attractive (I wish I could go back in time and dissuade 20-year-old me from wearing waistbands so restrictive they would make me puke).

The fact that this amount of volume seemed ludicrously capacious to me in 2020 shows how far the trend pendulum has swung—they feel practically slim to me now! While the generous cut took some getting used to, I grew to love the gentle curves granted by the extra material around the hips and developed a reverent appreciation for the roominess through the legs, which allow me to wear these comfortably at a desk all day. Since having a child, the trousers sit a bit more snugly at my waist, but I can still easily enjoy a large pasta serving in them.

I raved about the quality when I first wrote about these pants in 2022. Now, nearly five years in, I can confirm that they’ve held up impeccably—and that’s with the duress of nearly 200 wears. The material is a thick Japanese double weave twill with just a hint of stretch and the loveliest nubby texture; it’s been softened but not worn down by all the washes and wears. On first glance these pants look like new, but the hand-feel is slightly rougher in areas of high traction—a bit more velcro for the globs of cat fur blowing around my apartment like tumbleweeds.

This is also a brand that pays attention to details, exemplified by the perfectly-placed front pleats, the deep slash pockets on the sides, and the neat welt pockets in the back. These features add a touch of sophistication to the piece so that these trousers, while casual, can still be styled to suit more professional settings. One minor annoyance I’ve had with these pants is the construction flaw around the zipper, causing a weird bunching of the fabric in front—but perhaps it is this defect that allowed me to snag these at a small fraction of the retail price in the first place.

““From fall through spring, they’re on my weekly rotation and I’m nowhere close to getting sick of putting them on”; “ I consider these pants to be one of my best clothing purchases, and a closet staple I expect to enjoy for years to come.” —me being prophetic in 2022

Apart from 2023 (during which I was mostly too pregnant to wear any kind of non-elastic bottoms), these pants have logged over 40 wears per year—consistently showing up as one of my hardest working garments. It’s interesting to see how my style has evolved since they’ve been in my possession. I still like the dark, almost austere outfits on the left, but there’s been a clear shift towards more levity and visual contrast. Recently, I’ve been enjoying styling these pants with a colourful layering knit and a textured shirt thrown loosely on top. But when I’m in the mood for a classic dark-on-dark look, the nep of the fabric, like flecks of quartz in granite, offers subtle dimension and detail.

Recent outfits logged on Indyx.

What makes these pants so wearable and repeatable is that they don’t fit neatly into one style category. They’re what you might consider a basic, yet far from boring or standard. There’s an interesting interplay between the ruggedness of the material and the formality of its tailoring. And while they give off a tough, masculine energy— reminiscent of vintage wool hunting pants, they can easily be dressed up for work or a casual dinner out, paired with a silky top. The unprecious-fabric-meets-put-together-form means they work extremely well for my life as a working parent with a toddler. I can wear these to the office, then come home and let my daughter wipe her greasy hands on me, before taking her to the playground for a romp in sand and snow.

When I first wrote about them, I gushed about how they objectified my romantic longing for a Waldenesque life:

For me, these are the pants I reach for when I’m going for a walk in the woods. Last summer and autumn, with limited options for recreation, I developed a passion for mushroom foraging and identification. These were the perfect pants for tromping around and crouching in the brush on these forays; they’re comfortable, warm, breathable, and protect me from burrs and ticks. In November, we stayed in a tiny house on a small home farm with vegetable gardens and animals, close to conservation areas and hiking trails. There, I wore these pants with a thermal shirt, a grey wool shirt jacket, a toque, and hiking shoes, and it made me feel like I was living my ultimate homestead fantasy.

While I’ve moved on from my cottagecore-adjacent dreams, I still love the feeling of taking these pants on an outdoor adventure or a jaunt through a wooded trail. Carrying in the pockets a special mushroom brush and a couple of brown bags in case there’s a discovery of edible gems. Though, nowadays, it’s more likely to be empty snack wrappers and used napkins.

My journey to finding good pants that work for me has been a bit of a rollercoaster—with plenty of mishaps and casualties along the way. Through trial and error, I’ve learned so much about my style preferences and, over time, accumulated a cherished collection of bottoms that allow me to move through the world with comfort and confidence. Of them, these Naked and Famous pants are still one of my most beloved pairs.

In fact, they’re my only pair of real “trousers” at the moment. They almost feel like a relic from a point in time when I dressed more formally; I am now firmly in my era of denim and soft pants. Part of me yearns to add another pair of pleated trousers to my wardrobe—to bring back more sharpness and polish. But, truthfully, I’ve yet to find another pair that excites me as much as these.

These trousers are a tried-and-tested wardrobe staple for me, with the rare ability to mould to the different contexts of my existence and iterations of my style language. Do 20 year pants exist? I’m not sure. But these are by far the strongest contender in my wardrobe. Will report back in 15.