Flattering is a frustrating word. It’s either followed with a but: “Oh that’s so flattering on you, but,” or it’s in reference to one’s butt (double t’s here), as in, “I like these pants, but they aren’t very flattering on my butt.”
When we attach the word “unflattering” to clothing, no matter how much we like the items in question, it takes the fun out of getting dressed. It erases the picture that was once so clear in our minds of the looks we hoped to approximate, or the outfit that we were piecing together. We knew who we wanted to be and then poof! — the word “flattering” went and married itself to the prefix “-un,” and just like that: we are without identity.
But Leandra recently recently asked the important if not entirely simple question, who cares if the pants you love look bad?
With the recent rise of belly-high denim waist bands — and mark our words, that 501 look is baby-got-back — the f-word (no, not that one, or that one) seems to occupy much more mind space than frankly, it should be allowed. Sure, with the advent of high waist denim comes the mirrored crevices that form (absolutely unavoidably, regardless of body type, height or weight) when you have two legs and with them, a pair of thighs. But what I’d like to argue is that we celebrate this crease. We declare it a badge of honor, a deep-V for Victory. Let’s call it the Cowboy Crotch.
It’s not a camel toe (which is uncomfortable), and it’s not really a FUPA (which is a part of life). Rather, it’s a goal. A thing of beauty. Something to show off.
So saddle up and own it. After all, it is you who wears the high waisted vintage pants in this relationship.