I’m dedicating this post to my dad, William Luttrell, who died only a few short months ago. This is the first Father’s Day I will celebrate since his passing and I’ve decided to honor him by wearing his clothes. Ok, ok, it’s not the most reverent memorial, but it might be among the most stylish, and I think dad would love it. My dad didn’t overthink his style, but his look was distinct, evolved from a fiercely intelligent and independent spirit that was truly present and grounded and grounding. And I was his “birthday girl” born as I was on the day he turned thirty-one. As mom tells it, he was in a pub raising a glass while she and I were doing the hard work of bringing a new soul into the world. Save that grand entrance, my dad was with me every step of the way. He was my counselor, my rock, my guide, my hero. I should miss him terribly, and some days I do, but when I look for the truth, I know he is still with me. These trousers were custom made for my dad in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania in 1968. They’ve held up nicely and on me play at the drop crotch trend. I think he’d be happy to see them finding this stylish second act. Happy Father’s Day dad.