I blame Gigi Hadid. Or Hailey Bieber. Or maybe Kendall Jenner?
Whoever started it, bless their trendsetting soul because I have no idea why or how we’ve reached a point in 2025 where going out without trousers is not only believable, but fashionable AF. So believable that I, Emily, decided I would give this crazy fad a shot. Out in public.
With other New Yorkers who know exactly how you look sans trousers. God forgive me.
For those who haven’t dipped their toes into this strange yet mildly exhilarating trend we’ll call “going out and pretending you forgot your trousers,” it’s not actually nakedness we’re going for (although, some older women clutching their pearls looked at me like I did attempt a full N sieve down Fifth Avenue).
Rather, the idea is to wear an oversized top, jacket, or jumper with literally nothing but tights, underwear, or ; if you’re feeling daring ; shorts underneath that are high enough to not be seen but low enough that it looks like you justforgotthem.
Celebrities make it look effortless (lord do they know what they’re doing); Kendall sauntering around Soho in a vintage trucker shirt three sizes too big for her, matte black tights, and combat boots; Hailey donning a boxy blazer and see-through bike shorts while walking her damn dog. These women look sexy, put together, and, dare I say it?
Like they could actually pull this look off in public and not lose their minds. Girl, please. Not even close.
Not when you’re 5’9 and have thighs that make trousers shopping a nightmare (stop touching each other already). But despite my inability to pull off anything a size too big and my decidedly un-airbrushed, lower-half; I elected to wear the no trousers look to run some errands around my Brooklyn neighbourhood for the sake of journalism and general depravity. Needless to say, my editor, Katherine wasn’t so sure. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to get arrested?” she texted me when I first pitched the story. “You will still be covered in all the right places, I promise!” I reassured her.
She responded with the crying-laughing emoji which I took as carte blanche to move forward. Fast forward to the day of reckoning: Me, standing in front of my closet having a mini quarter-life crisis. What on earth does one wear to *accidentally* not wear trousers?
After trying on what felt like 37 different ensembles, I settled on an oversized cream button down “shacket” from Aritzia that rested just above my thighs, black opaque tights (couldn’t be fully blasé about this), combat boots, and; the pièce de résistance that prevented me from being arrested; high waisted black bike shorts you couldn’t see but knew were there. Sure, I had on a shirt that could (arguably) double as a blanket if I flipped it open, but it looked like a shirt. And I was covered.
Sort of. Okay, fine time to take this out of the closet and into the cold-hearted city I call home. I checked myself in the mirror one last time.
From one angle, it actually appeared that I wasn’t wearing anything under my shirt. From a different angle, you could see the seams of my shorts. Mental note: don’t look at people from that angle. “You got this,” I said to my regretful reflection. “It’s an art statement.
It’s honestly kinda fashionable, Emm!” Oh god, what have I done? Too late for takebacks. I grabbed my oversized bag (breaths remain proportionate at all times), opened the door, and gottaxedished by the brisk October air.
New York City, here I come. First stop: the coffee shop down the street from my flat that I frequent. The baristas literally know my name and my order ( oat milk latte, extra shot).
I pushed open the door, and there was Marco, making my coffee like he always has been since I moved to Brooklyn three years ago. His eyebrow perked up as soon as he saw me. “Forgot your trousers today?” He joked with a smile. “No I’m ; fancy!” I squeaked out, pointing to my oversized shirt. “Journalism. Trend piece.
We’re doing a whole no trousers thing!” “Uh huh.” He laughed as he already began pouring my coffee. “Writing about frostbite too?” Haley,who edited this story, is clearly mocking me with this headline. I got a few strange looks at the grocery store, and was literally given the sign of the cross by an elderly woman. I tried explaining to her that “actual celebrities” are doing this, but she was having none of it. “Oh sweetie,” she said. “In my day we called that not putting your clothes on.” Mate set the trend back in the 1900’s and never got it back.
The cashier, thankfully, was way cooler about it. When I told her what I was doing she laughed and nodded knowingly. “Yeah I’ve seen that tik tok meme!” She leaned closer. “My mum would kill me if I left the house like that though.” Mum was RIGHT. By lunchtime, I had got into full Ross Geller-from-PRE-famed-yesterday vibes.
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Sure, people were staring but hey, so are you! And we both know New Yorkers see way weirder during their morning commute than me wearing a shirt that looks like I forgot my trousers. The struggle would be real if I was in the city for a week-long fashion event wearing this ensemble on the red carpet.
Instead, I was meeting my dear friend Emma for lunch at an adorable italian restaurant in Williamsburg. Emma is who I’ve decided to classify as a “basic bitch.” She works in banking (boo) and lives in Astoria. We get brunch together about once a month where she updates me on all of the precious little things her husband and daughter do while I live my coolest girl-about-town life wearing decrepid shoes and too many hats.
She had no idea what I was doing as I jaunted into dinner naked from the waist down. “Oh my god,” she laughed when she saw me, eyes moving from my shirt to my bare thighs. “What the actual fuck, Emily?” I explained my mission. She was not here for it. “I love you,” she said between giggles and sips of wine. “But there is nothing you can say or do to make me understand why you decided to leave the house like that today.” “It’s a thing!” I countered. “All of these famous people are doing it!” “Uh, celebrities also wear safety blankets and brightly coloured hair don’t they?” She wasn’t going down without a fight. “Help me Haley!” “Just kidding,” she continued. “You’re at a moderately priced dining establishment in BROOKLYN wearing what I can only assume used to be a mans shirt. Not Milan fashion week.
Not even CASeNY where we’d still be staring at you like THIS.” She had a point. Our waiter, bless his soul, did not make us feel any better when collecting our order, eyeing us down like we were the weirdest table he’d ever had the displeasure of serving. I spent the entire meal trying to read his expression, wondering if he was going to tell his friends about this or use this as internet fodder later. “You won’t believe the lady thats NOT wearing trousers at table 6.” It was somewhere between grocery shopping and picking up dry-cleaning that I started to really feel how impractical trousers-less living is.
Yes, you can get away with it for bits of time here and there when you’re just running errands around your neighbourhood. But you canNOT sit down. Every chair you sit in feels like sandpaper on your legs.
Every escalator step is dangerously icy. You shift your weight from leg to leg just walking around the fucking street. Also, IT’S COLD.
Sure, I could’ve layered up on heavier tights or leggings but that kind of defeats the whole purpose of the trend. This is literally what celebrities have to do when they want to be seen out and about in stylish clothes. They take pictures at the car wearing shoes and magically put trousers back on before they enter any trace of public interaction.
I avoided sitting down at all costs for the remainder of my day, which did eventually start to wear on my knees. There’s also something extremely self-conscious about going about your day knowing that from slightly angling yourself to the left, it does literally look like you’ve forgotten your trousers. I pride myself on not being insecure, what with working in an industry where people are PAYED to scrutinize your outfit choices on the daily; but damn did I feel exposure today.
After a full day of consecutive trousers-less errands, I had one final stop I needed to make. I was picking up a package from the UPS store when I heard a small child tug at my jacket. “Where are your trousers?” She asked, little face peering up at me from behind her mother. BEFORE I COULD ANSWER, the mortified mother pulled her daughter closer. “Lily, we don’t ask strangers questions like that!” She whispered harshly in my ear. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay,” I smiled at the woman.
Turning to her daughter, “Hi sweetie, I’m actually doing a fashion article about going out without trousers! It’s a new trend some celebrities are wearing but you should definitely keep wearing your trousers young lady.” The kid looked at me confused. “My mum makes me wear trousers to school even when I don’t wanna!” “Well your mum is ON TO SOMETHING,” I said as the mother began whispering “I’m sorry, sorry” behind her kid’s back to me. I walked home that day feeling vastly under-dressed.
Literally. But also figuratively. I got completely rained on because I was too hot to put a coat on.
I felt self conscious walking behind people on the street. I couldn’t enjoy a meal without worrying about what angle I was sitting at.
Trousers, I have realised, are magical.
They keep you warm.
They protect your legs from ramming together. They stop people from thinking you’re homeless or an incel.
When I sent Haley the first draught of this story, she responded with one question: “Would you do it again?” And to that, I say maybe? With leggings. Or maybe over a dress that clearly looks like a dress.
Or maybe… I just admire the looks on celebrities rocking it cute and leave it at that. Outings to include trousers from here on out. “I found your trousers!” Marco yelled at me when I came in for my morning coffee the day after my pantsless adventure. I smiled, throwing him an extra dollar tip. “Fashion week’s over man,” I laughed. “Don’t worry about it.” “Thank god,” he sighed in relief. “You were starting to freak me out, even for Brooklyn.” Even Brooklyn.
As far as validations go, I’ll take it. Trousers are back on, folks. And I’m never taking them off again.
