So if you’ve paged through this blog at all, you’ve probably realized that I’m cheap. Like, really cheap. Most of my clothes are thrifted. It PAINS me to spend more than $20 on a single garment. Hell, it pains me to spend more than $10.
Keep all of this in mind as I tell you the following, because it should hopefully lend a little credibility to my opinion. Warning: I’m telling you to buy something at real-people prices.
If you’re an hourglass, like me, you probably have a LOT of trouble finding pants. I hardly ever wear pants because I probably only have 4 or 5 pairs that I feel fit me really well, and I’m at the point in my life where I don’t feel the need to wear anything that doesn’t fit me less than spectacularly.
Because of this pants problem, I’m obsessed with American Apparel Riding pants.
I’ve had two pairs thus far—one used pair from eBay (that I eventually lost), and one new pair that I just bought to replace the old ones, which I was missing dearly.
I’m not gonna lie—these little shits are expensive. They’ll run you ~$75/ pair, depending on where you get them. But they’re magic. Here’s why:
A) They solve the butt:waist ratio problem.
If you’re an hourglass, this is the bane of your existence. Find a great pair of pants that fits over your substantial ass? Have fun with the giant gape around your waist/lower back. Find a pair that’s your real waist size? Have fun getting it over your upper thighs/butt.
You know what’s so wonderful about these? STRETCH. ALL THE STRETCH, WITHOUT ANY WEIRD BAGGINESS (see pic above of me with my foot on the bathroom counter to demonstrate—I could easily put my leg behind my head in these pants, if I were the sort of person that does such things). The waistband is wide and tight and sits on my natural waist without making me feel as if my organs are being slowly crushed. The long zipper makes getting these up over my thighs and booty a breeze. Painless. You can’t say that about a lot of pants when it comes to hourglass or pear-shaped figures.
B) They’re thick enough to hold in your jelly.
Leggings are wonderful and all, but whenever I wear them, I always feel like every bounce of my butt is magnified and broadcast to the world. While that may be fun for some of the men walking behind me, it makes me paranoid and self-conscious.
Not so with these pants, friends. They’re made out of that wonderful thick, ribbed material that the stirrup pants you wore as a kid in the 90s were made of. I could do jumping jacks or run stairs in these and my butt would still look tight and fairly firm—minimal jiggle. They give the illusion that I invest far more time in squats than I actually do.
C) They can be dressed up or down.
It’s such a cliche fashion writing thing to say, but they really can. Moody pic of me with the grey scarf? Riding pants for work, looking sleek and mostly profesh. All black outfit with my old platinum hair? Riding pants for a dirty college twerkfest. Pic with the red scarf? Riding pants for casual errands/lounging around. They’re so comfy, and they wear like ponte pants or leggings, but better-fitting, more interestingly-made (the knee patches!) with better fabric, and more forgiving.
D) They make your ass look amazing.
I wasn’t kidding. They make me look a little too juicy for a work outfit that doesn’t involve something that at least partially covers my rear, but you ladies with slightly less prominent butts and/or slightly more confidence could get away with them in a professional environment. And, of course, in your casual day-to-day or going-out life, juicy butts are always appreciated. These pants will make your butt look like a round, luscious, wonderful peach, without riding up your ass all day or making you afraid to bend over.
This has been a PSA. Thank me later.
Deets: I’m 5'9", usually anywhere between a size 6-8-10, and I wear a size medium in the AA Riding Pants.
Pants are American Apparel. Everything else is thrifted but the lace-back boots (gift from a pal) and the lace-up boots (my trust Timberland Bethel Buckle boots).