I saw them three times before I finally buying them. Every time I tried them on I couldn't believe how well they fit with an already broken in softness. And how despite my perception of my lower body, I was wearing white pants and they were the opposite of unflattering.
Of course it always comes down to money. The price was so ridiculous that I still have the tags in my drawer because I'm almost afraid to throw them away, just in case. Not that I could return them, but maybe as a reminder to avoid Bloomingdales. There's truth in that saying, "You get when you pay for." In another one of my justifications for buying them; I now only own three pairs of pants.
Yesterday's outfit featuring The Most Beautiful Pants in the World was directly inspired by the rosy cacophony that is my bed. Also the rose I found that had escaped its bouquet on the floor in a Duane Reade last week. A little messy, very relaxed.