As long as I can remember I’ve been drawn to colourful, patterned trousers. Floral, stripes, abstract swirls, no pattern or colour combination is off the menu. If they are loud and weirdly fabulous, I will love them even more.
When I see a particularly fancy pair, my head swivels and I’m drawn to them, like a moth to a flame. Right now, this is happening rather a lot, because we are in a season in which loud, patterned trousers are a thing.
Boden alone has three great pairs now – one of which is part of a tartan suit, which, luckily, I own and love – as well as patterned cords (above), and a fetching pair of plaid pleat front trousers in shades of navy, beige and rose pink. Not to mention Zara’s overblown tartan print trousers which call to me every time I see them, and Anthropologie’s flattering, pull-on wide-leg Somerset trousers, which go all the way up to a size XL and are bursting with dreamy jacquard florals.
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Wear patterned trousers with loafers, ankle boots, a blazer and a polo neck, or a coat and cosy jumper, and you have a statement look that makes you feel smart and sassy, and yet covered up and cosy. In short, this is practical autumn attire with personality.
Over the years, my favourite pairs have been, in no order, a very loud pair of floral flares, bought from a vintage shop 20 years ago, and “borrowed” by my stepdaughter never to be returned. A phenomenal handmade pair by my old friend, the designer Maria Grachvogel, which were ruined when said stepdaughter borrowed them for a party and sat on a nail, ripping them. Are you spotting a theme here?
The patterned trousers that have stayed with me longest come from my favourite brand Marques Almeida, designed by married couple Marta Marques and Paolo Almeida, who began their careers in London, and now live in their native Porto, in Portugal. Cut like five-pocket boyfriend jeans, I own them in overblown pink roses (ten years and counting), pink Zebra stripes (three years old), and in a painterly weave (five years old) which looks like someone went crazy with a paintbrush.
Wearing each pair makes me feel upbeat, and chic - the closest trousers to these are the Colette, by Anthropologie (below).
I’d never worked out where this fascination for patterned trousers came from. They don’t really fit mainstream “fashion” trends, after all, my love of them is more of a life-long personal style preference. That is, until I found a fuzzy old photo of my parents from the late 1970s, in which they are both looking extremely cool in snug polo-necks, and Mum is posing in a brilliant pair of purple and blue floral flares and a shiny pair of brown loafers.
When I asked Mum about them, she told me “Oh I remember those! I bought them at a Notting Hill market, was obsessed by them and wore them all the time; you would have been between the ages of two and five.”
So, mystery solved! During these formative ages, when my mother’s floral legs were front and centre of my viewpoint, I absorbed the greatness of loud patterned trousers, and unbeknownst to me, it’s stayed with me for life.
Only now, I get to wear them and not only feel fashionable but connected to my mum while she was living it up in her twenties too. A win/ win, right?