My sister sent me these pants, insisting they were made from real gossamer fairy wings. I am tempted to wear them in public for the sole purpose of having an airline or sanctimonious mom blogger chastise me for my indecency, but that would require too much energy.
Instead, I have Martin, who laughed and laughed and laughed at my “clown pants.” I’ve only ever seen these worn at the on-base food court. It takes awhile for zee Germans to embrace new fashion, though.
Thanks for the pajama bottoms, Jill.