Spanish Pants

There was something different about Todd. He carried himself with an air of mystery, a sense of continental "je ne sais quois". He noticed how people looked at him as he passed by, gazing at him admiringly as if they knew he knew something they never would. He was a man of the world, a jet-setter, a man of taste.

Or so he thought.

People were actually looking at his pants. His "Spanish pants". He had just been to Spain for a fortnight and while in Madrid, had purchased a pair of bullfighter's short pants, with rhinestone stripes down each side and flowers embroidered on the thighs and across the rear, culminating in huge pink blooms on each cheek. These he wore with the customary white knee socks and black ballet shoes with little black pom-poms on them. That’s what people were staring at.

That and the little red cape.

Todd’s office had a casual dress code, but Todd thought that one should dress properly for the office, at least from the waist up. So, Todd decided to indulge himself in the sartorial version of a mullet: business from the waist up, party from the pants down. He wore an expensive cotton handmade shirt from Borelli, with French cuffs, silver cuff links and a Bruno Piatelli necktie. If you just saw Todd’s top half, you would see him for what he was; a banking industry professional with a taste for the finer things in life. If you looked down, you would think that Todd harbored a not-so-secret desire to be a circus performer or a particularly effeminate drag queen.

All that mattered to Todd was that people liked his Spanish Pants. Crowds gathered around him when he went out to lunch, staring and pointing. This attention made Todd feel important. The little red cape was necessary too. It gave drama to his Spanish Pants and people would get out of his way when he waved it around. Todd didn’t need a bull. He had Spanish Pants.....