Into the pleated breach: How fortuitous that you chose this moment to speak up on fashion, Dear Mr. Eno. I was going to post first-thing this morning upon my return from NYC and Cristo's "Gates" exhibit, but that shall have to wait.
Your timing is indeed fortuitous b/c just last night I was perusing through a sheaf of old pictures that my parents dropped off to my house. These pictures were among other keepsakes from college, and most relevant to this discussion, high school.
Harken back to 1989, Spring...prom time. You may recall, Eno, you attended a pre-gala champagne tasting at my residence, along with our mutual rockstar friend, lets-call-him Steinberger. We three were all decked out in typical rent-a-tux attire, and our feet where clad with Chuck Taylors - oh, we were so witty! But it is not what we wore on our bodies, nor our feet, that I wish to bring up by way of introduction to my repost to your reply on pleats, or as I call them "fan pants". No, it is what you wore on your head...namely a mop of hair that defied not only convention, but description.
Fortunately, today we have a name for that monstrosity: the mullet. Yes, but it wasn't just any mullet, it was a mullet of epic proportions. It was spiky on top, long and straight in the back. It was full, it was blown-dry, it had a lustrous sheen - in short, you embodied the "business in front, party in the back" attitude any true mullet afficionado should project.
You wore your mullet with an aggressive elan, saying, without speaking a word, "You cannot possibly hope to rock as much as me!" No...we could not; we didn't even try. I shall make one or more of these pictures available to the highest bidder on Ebay - for your sanity, I shall excise any pictures of your date. Nonetheless, the publication of these photos will instantly render your credibility on style to ashes.
Now, on to fan pants. First, I would note that flat fronts are not outdated - quite to the contrary. Pleats may indeed be comfortable, but as I am fond of saying in response to those who would have me wear Birkenstocks, I bet wearing peanutbutter-and-jelly sandwiches on ones' feet would be comfortable as well - you just don't see anyone doing it.
Nay, pleats should follow the path of waistcoats, high starch collars, and spats. Each had its merit, but time passed them by. Pleats should be left to Catholic school girls' skirts, and let the men of society walk about without being pulled about by a cross-wind catching one of the creases on our pants.