THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, August 23, 1996 TAG: 9608230075
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Guy Friddell
LENGTH: 60 lines
As the reporters left San Diego, bound for Chicago, a Union-Tribune headline saw us off:
REPORTERS BRING
A WRINKLED-PANTS
LOOK TO TOWN
The story began: ``A cheap pants convention has been under way.''
There is a soupcon of truth in what it says. So many wore khaki slacks that, the newspaper said, they ``might as well be officially issued'' as the uniform of the day.
``We don't go around looking like that,'' said an editor of the San Diego Magazine. ``I don't know about those out-of-towners, but people here dress well. Even when they're casual, they don't look wrinkled.''
``They're pretty grungy,'' said a young woman, eyeing khaki-legged newsmen. ``Their pants really are cheap, you can tell.''
Four years of the Army conditioned me to khakis for life. Nothing beats the feel of freshly washed, somewhat-pressed khaki slacks.
Indeed, hereabouts many young men - bankers, brokers, lawyers - sport a high grade of light-weight khakis with dark jackets.
The Union-Tribune noted that the appeal of sales-table slacks is largely a matter of economy.
My slacks never come from a sales table, ever.
I drop by M & G Army-Navy Surplus Sales on Granby Street where Charles Chalmers digs out what might be called industrial strength khakis able to withstand innumerable washing machines.
``Guys in the press are generally unpressed,'' the newspaper observed. ``There's a sense that traveling journalists prefer the ball-'em-up-jam-'em-in method of packing pants.''
Yet, newswomen manage without any apparent effort to appear daisy-fresh always and in finery fit for any soiree. The only explanation is that they are born that way.
``Accessories to the sales-table slacks run to liner-tattered blue blazers and traumatically scuffed loafers; the blazer always sports a higher shine than the loafers,'' the paper noted.
Reporters' pants are often stained from ballpoint pen eruptions, the paper said.
But more often than that, an uncapped soft-tip pen thrust into one's shirt pocket leaves a spreading Rorschach blot as if one has been stabbed and is bleeding ink.
In the field a reporter now and then is running after candidates and running from security guards who don't want them chasing candidates. And writing is so kinetic, kind of like mowing a lawn - pacing the floor, throwing balled-up paper at waste baskets, looking for eyeglasses.
The search for the right word is as much manual as mindful. One does not wish to wallow among words in one's Sunday suit.
Another thing - topping off my khaki slacks is a blue-striped, seersucker coat. Don't they know out there that seersucker is supposed to look wrinkled? ILLUSTRATION: Color drawing of Guy by CNB