In the Pink

I'm not afraid of color, but I usually like to use it as an accent, rather than a bold statement. An ivory linen suit with a pale lavender shirt, for instance, but spiced up with an orange plaid handkerchief and burnt orange brogues. 

Yesterday, however, while pawing through the clearance racks at Bergdorf's (the imminent recession affects us all, darlings), I couldn't help but be strangely attracted by a pair of fuchsia-colored pants. 

Yes, fuchsia.

My mind immediately began whirring: these would look wonderful at summer cocktail parties, paired with a crisp white shirt, classic navy blazer and tobacco-colored loafers (a trip to Tod's might prove necessary, but then, with the money I saved on the pants, I could splurge...). 

So, I bought them. At $99, they were a steal, and judging by the range of sizes left on the rack, I'm fairly convinced that I'm no danger of seeing them on anyone else. Of course, I told myself this was merely because no one else had the vision to wear them with as much elan as I certainly would. It also could be because everyone else had the good sense not to buy fuchsia pants in the first place. (Although a cursory glance at the Happy Hour crowd at any gay watering hole in town would put that theory into serious question.)

Watch this space. Once they make their official debut, I'll let you know if I'm a fashion visionary, or just another deluded homosexual who thinks if his pants are fuchsia, they must be fabulous.