I did not expect an emotional response to a pair of ripped cargo pants | Tom Bowden

When the messages are coming from as far afield as Germany, you know your latest social media effort has struck an odd chord, writes Tom Bowden.

Last weekend I shared a message on Facebook I hoped I’d never have to write.

It read thusly: “It is with a heavy heart I write to inform you that yesterday afternoon, surrounded by his loving daughter and other netball enthusiasts in the carpark of his local courts, Tom’s beloved cargo pants went to be with their Lord, splitting from arsehole to breakfast as he got into his Camry.

“They have been an ever-present source of comfort and strength in our lives for the past 20 years, so understandably we are all distraught at their sudden loss. Memorial service details and a GoFundMe link will follow in the coming days but in the meantime our family asks that you respect our privacy as we grieve what has been taken from us so suddenly and without warning.

“The night is darkest before the dawn. But the dawn will come.’

“2005-2025”

This message was accompanied by a portrait photo of said pants in better times, taken in the office by my friend as I proudly held an iceberg lettuce.

The outpouring of condolences – some coming from as far away as Germany – was very touching, and while they can never replace what was frankly a glorious pair of strides, they go some way in filling the enormous hole in my heart the enormous hole in my trousers has left.

Tom Bowden in his beloved cargo pants.

Also, annoyingly, this tragedy meant I had to cancel the sushi celebration I’d promised my daughter, as I couldn’t really waltz into the local shopping centre with a small child in what was now, essentially a pair of arseless chaps – something you’d never catch me in (at the shops …).

And before you suggest it, given you could drive a Nissan Micra through the opening (not that you’d ever want to drive a Nissan Micra), no, these bad boys cannot be repaired. They’re history.

As tongue-in-cheek as this post was, there was an element of truth to it.

I was sad they had ripped. I’d had those pants for half my life and had seen them come in and out of fashion at least thrice in that time.

I had them before I got engaged and married. I wore them on my honeymoon. I’m sure I wore them for the birth of at least two of our three children and Hell, I’ve even jumped out of a plane at 21,000 feet in them.

It’s funny the everyday things that become a source of comfort for us.

Given I’m a 199cm-tall fella, it’s perhaps unsurprising that a pair of trousers that perfectly fit a hard-to-fit man might be mine. But I’m sure you have yours.

Whether it’s that one cut of jeans you like, the same brand of sneakers you’ve been wearing since you were a teen, or that one make of bra that provides you with just the right amount of support without the underwire digging aggressively into your armpit.

They say clothes maketh the man, and while these pants were certainly not a haute couture piece from Versace or a Tom Ford suit, they gave me a feeling of comfort and a sense of confidence.

And I’m sad they’re gone.

I’m not sure the depth of this loss has really hit my wife (who seems silently thrilled at their demise after having to look at them for two decades) yet, but I’m sure it will when I start asking her to carry the car keys and all the house keys when we’re at the shops because I no longer have pockets for them.

Originally published as I did not expect an emotional response to a pair of ripped cargo pants | Tom Bowden