Brief encounters: what men’s pants say about them

Early-stage teenagers will hoard their pants in a complex network of secret locations, often after several days of hard wear. Some anthropologists have noted how, in the same way that a dog will cock its leg to mark out its territory, the young human male uses worn pants to stake his claim to various central locations in the home, such as the computer desk or the sofa or, in some extreme cases, the fridge. Within the confines of his bedroom (or “den”), the positioning of such highly scented undergarments acts as both a boundary indicator and a deterrent to other members of the pack — namely his sister and her stupid friends.

3. Pulling pants

As the teenage male progresses towards adulthood, his pants assume a new and vitally important role. No longer acting as a social repellent, they become a central tool in the complex mating ritual. For the urban lad-about-town, the emphasis is on important indicators such as coolness and “street credibility”.

While the wearing of pants on the outside of garments is still a practice confined to superheroes, displaying as much as possible of the fabled undergarment has become de rigueur. This has its roots in American gang culture, the lack of a belt on the jeans being an indicator of general lawlessness (the cops take away your belt and shoelaces when they arrest you). The fact that the wearer may be about as far removed from the mean streets of Baltimore as the playing fields of Eton are from Wormwood Scrubs is of little or no consequence. It’s cool, even if it does mean that you have to walk in a manner that implies you may have just lost control of your bowels.

Pants that are associated with successful seduction tend to be earmarked as “lucky” and stored for the future. They will acquire an almost mythical significance in the mind of the wearer, and any attempt to score without them will be doomed to failure. Lucky pants often stay with their owner long after his pulling days are over and can be found years later, threadbare and worn, in the darkest recesses of many a happily married man’s drawers. Rip them up for dusters at your peril.

4. Sporting pants

On the sporting male, the preference is for undergarments that define and enhance. As they are witnessed mainly by other males in the competitive confines of the changing room, they have a tendency to exaggerate the size of the wearer’s potential. Ostensibly, the reason for this is support; but they are not fooling anyone. The look is gently homoerotic, appealing both to certain types of men and to the kind of female who appreciates David Beckham’s, erm, tackle.

Sporting pants, like pulling pants, often acquire an iconic status in a man’s wardrobe — as the years go by, their owners associate them not just with past glories but with the kind of male freedom and camaraderie that having three children and driving a Skoda Roomster just doesn’t convey. Psychologists consider the wearing of ancient, faded, two-sizes-too-small sports pants by men approaching their forties as a sign of impending midlife crisis.

5. Executive Pants T

These make their appearance when the young male is firmly established in gainful employment, has mastered the art of ordering a bottle of wine in a fancy restaurant, no longer has an irritating ringtone and stops believing that Stargate Atlantis is based on real evidence from the American military. In other words, when he has grown up. Executive pants are crisp, cotton, elegant and sexy in a not-too-try-hard sort of way. Patterns are often bold but never embarrassing. They contain no synthetic fibres, do not cause friction burn and are well made to lasting standards. They come from upmarket department stores or eminent Jermyn Street tailors, and they are not cheap. In fact, they are so nice that girlfriends will often steal them and wear them as pyjama bottoms, which a lot of men find simultaneously intensely irritating and oddly stimulating.

6. The Wrong Pants

Surprisingly, there are a lot of these around. They breed like rabbits at Christmas time, ranging from jaunty snowmen with strategically placed carrot noses to “sexy Santa” faux fur-edged monstrosities with inbuilt jingle bells. Valentine’s Day heralds another flurry, usually in the shape of red satin boxers (NB: no man should ever wear satin unless he is appearing on Broadway). We are, of course, talking of novelty pants. Let us be clear: novelty pants are bad, even if they are in aid of charity, even if they are a gift from your mother (actually, especially if they are a gift from your mother), even if Megan Fox herself is on her knees in a bikini before you, begging you to wear them once, just once, for her. No.

7. Married Pants

There they are, in the shopping trolley alongside the multibuy boxes of Frubes and the packets of Nurofen Plus: married man pants, the symbol of your withered masculinity. They come in little plastic envelopes of three, with a little plastic popper and a photograph of a purposeful man-at-C&A type printed on a thin piece of paper. They are cheap, they are practical, they are perfunctory. The waistband is depressingly thin. Their design is conservative: sombre blue and green plaids are popular, or traditional stripes. Given the effects of marriage and parenthood on the male girth, they are usually generously proportioned and mostly in a boxer style. Their life cycle can be anything from a year to 20 years and they lead a generally uneventful existence, moving between the darkness of the laundry basket and the safety of the underwear drawer, where they rest snugly alongside their identical, dreary companions.

Occasionally, a pair of unrecognisable and incongruously debonair pants may materialise in the married man’s underwear drawer, like a visitor from another planet. Often branded (Hugo Boss or Zegna), they are worthy of note, as any married man who suddenly rediscovers an interest in the state of his underpants is quite possibly engaged in the exploration of those of others. These are known as “adultery pants” and must be approached with extreme caution.