Something that gives me a total sense of wellbeing: seeing people in their Eli & Barry clothing. I call that sensation soul warming. There’s also something so wholesome about a well-loved item of clothing. It feels even more special when you know that the garment was made with care and by someone in a safe work environment, whether that be by you or by someone else. Clothes tell a story and they gain plot twists in the form of worn-in fabric and rips. Patches are like scars: they’re badges of honor of a life well lived. So I want to tell you a story today about the original pant one and how I now have a new pair to add into the mix.
I remember the feeling I had when I finally perfected the first pair of pant 1. It was in the mushroom hemp organic cotton canvas and I remember feeling that same sense of soul warmth that I described above. I had just sized down one size to make everything slightly more snug and I then ended up lopping 2” off at the bottom hems in favor of a shorter inseam. I want to demonstrate why that is and also why I have a new pair of pant 1s in mushroom in a longer inseam.
Why and when I wear a 23” inseam pant 1 (I’m 5’ 6” for reference): WINTER. A bit of a contradiction, I know, but hear me out. You might have noticed that I’m a bit Blundstone obsessed (Exhibit A, B and C). I realized while making the original pant 1 that I wanted an inseam length that allowed me to have a tiny gap of skin or handmade sock to show between the pant hem and the start of my Blundstones. I’m demonstrating this styling choice below.
Admittedly, the 23” inseam feels a little short as soon as I want to wear flats or sandals. Enter my newest pant 1 in mushroom, which I call my summer pant 1. It’s actually still the 23” inseam, but I took them down a 1/2”. I still love a slightly cropped look and the length feels perfect for me with flats.
Both pants feel beloved to me. The canvas of my winter pant 1 is now soft and worn-in. That pair has a patch on the inner leg from a “mistake” a made while sewing them. They’be been worn and washed and worn again. My summer pant 1 is new and crisp and doesn’t have the that sense of story quite yet, but I’m sure that will change in the coming months. It feels a little extravagant in the sense that I already have a pair, but a pant that’s worn this much might just require duplicate pairs with different seasons in mind.