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My stirrup pants had too much giddyap and go!
THE FIRST TIME I saw a, pair of leggings, they were on someone else s body--that of the Twiggy-sized teen seated next to me in a crowded doctors office. With her huge T-shirt and long, red legs, she looked utterly charming and altogether comfy.
"Do they feel as good as they look?" I asked.
"You bet." She nodded emphatically, pinching a bit of fabric and stretching it out. "See? It springs right back. No sagging. No wrinkling."
Since my knees both sag and wrinkle, I was duly impressed with her Lycra-swathed limbs.
"What do you call them?"
"Leggings," she informed me, jumping to her feet when the receptionist called her name. "You oughta try 'em. They come in your size, too."
I watched her go, wondering what sort of fashion statement my older-but-wider body might make in such a getup. Fire-engine red was out of the question, of course, but a nifty navy, a dove gray, a basic black--couldn't ! pull that off? Especially if an oversized shirt fell well …