This is one of those times.
Perhaps you think I am overstating. "Oh, that Daisy," you're thinking. "Always overstating things."
"Really?" I respond. "Okay then, let's break this down."
Starting from the top:
Which is sweatpants, or at least a portion thereof. Now, sweatpants are fine things; exceptionally comfy and perfect for those days when buttons and zippers just seem like too much work. But in this Frankenpants situation we only get part of the sweatpants-- the top part, to be specific-- grafted on to a heavy, almost-denim fabric with a pointless, asymmetrical button and inexplicable beltloops*.
From there we proceed to the crotch:
Which is dropped, of course. Because when you are dressed in the finest mixed-material, inexplicably-beltlooped Frankenpants money can buy, the last thing you want is to not look like you're wearing a diaper.
And now, the back:
Which, if you can't tell, is made of the material normally used for lining things like suit jackets. These pants are like a mullet, except instead of being party in the front and business in the back, they're stupid in the front and crazy in the back.
A lot like a mullet, actually.
Oh, and before I forget, the bottom:
At the time that Lisa and I encountered these pants, I was on the fence about buying a (very cool) coat at the same store. I was actually carrying the coat with me when we examined them, but the pants-- their very existence and the fact that the store was actually attempting to sell them for $455 (shockingly, they have since been marked down)-- offended me so much that I couldn't bring myself to make a purchase, and I left the coat hanging there on the rack, so that the pants might know what they had done, and be ashamed.
*"Inexplicable Beltloops" is what I am going to name my alt-country band, when I have one.