March 5th, 5 a.m.: Stunt journalism alarm goes off. Looks like it's a Level 3: full NYTimes Style Section treatment for Zubaz, which appear to be some sort of Zebra-striped pants. Immediately log on to Amazon to begin planning outfit, worried that the stunt journos at the other outlets might have already drained inventory. Luckily, supplies are plentiful. Send several panicked emails to stunt journalism assistants asking for help planning the rest of the outfit—it appears that the shoes and shirt will present the biggest challenges.
March 22nd: Two long weeks of work have paid off: high-top sneakers and mesh top have arrived. Hipster hat secured from coffee place downstairs. Preparing office staff for full-scale Zubaz launch on Monday. Ignored calls from attorney.
March 25th, 10:15 a.m.: Changing in the bathroom. Struck by just how immediately comfortable these pants are— especially in the crotch. You feel like you're wearing a robe! A very light robe, made out of cheap cotton material, like a towel at a bad motel. There are two pockets for storing your valuables and what's left of your dignity. The pants taper strongly by the ankle, in the style of MC Hammer's famous trousers.
Enjoy the rictus grins on the sales team as they attempt to process my art. Think that in many ways, my performance is more forceful and aggressive than Tilda Swinton's, because I'm moving and in your face, and I think that you also can probably see some nipple through this mesh shirt. Make a mental note to research just what constitutes workplace harassment.
10:21 a.m.:Chris and JDS are immediately on my ass for these Zubaz being too baggy at the ankle and not tapering enough. You can just tell some people will never understand the Zubaz lifestyle, or taste any Zubaz cred. Compensate by pulling waistband up just below my belly button.
10:22 a.m.: Realize that our new associate editor, Lauren, is here for her first day. Worrying this might be giving her the wrong idea about my competence as a manager.
10:25 a.m.: While posing for shots, ask Carlson if the hat is "too much." She's not sure.
10:35 a.m.: Decide to drop the sweatshirt and really go all out. Loving the breeze under my arms— seriously considering going sleeveless all summer.
10:45 a.m.: Printing some health insurance forms. The discomfort from coworkers seated next to printer is palpable. Starting to worry about anti-Zubatism.
10:50 a.m.: Starting to wonder about Zubaz-stunt antecedents in our popular culture. Ali G comes to mind. Surfing pictures of him on Google Images. Regretful that I didn't grow some stupid facial hair for this outfit, and jealous of his bling.
Two tickets to the gun show! (Gothamist Staff)
Suddenly feeling intensely regretful of my career choices and faded promise. Wonder briefly if I can still get back into medical school.
11:17 a.m.:Tien arrives, says "Nice outfit, man" but with a sincerity that tells me he really appreciates my work. He agrees to go to lunch so we can test the outfit outside.
11:30 a.m.: Thinking about the difference between Zubaz and meggings. It goes a lot deeper than how tight or loose they are in the crotch. Wearing Zubaz you immediately feel at ease, like whatever petty concerns you had about your self-esteem were ridiculous. You can just bro-out, be yourself, and relax. Meggings are the opposite—they're all about how the world sees you, not how you see yourself. It's hard to explain but I feel like I'm standing on the other side of a huge chasm of history separating me from my meggings.
11:35 a.m.: Trying to find the right music for the Zubaz lifestyle. "Welcome to the Black Parade", by the recently disbanded New Jersey emo troop My Chemical Romance feels right. Makes me feel like lifting some weights, so I hit the bench behind my desk. Did you know Zubaz were originally weight lifter pants?
12:05 p.m.: Realize the key to Zubaz is wearing them high. No need to rock these low. They do the work for you.
12:15pm: Preparing to go to lunch with Tien. He argues for take-out because "he just can't deal" and "I will vomit in my mouth". Zubaz are like a litmus-test for character, and he has failed spectacularly. Return calls to lawyer so he can amend my estate accordingly.
12:45 p.m.: Weather conditions outside are cold and windy. Quickly realize two things: first, no one in DUMBO gives two shits about what you're wearing. They probably wouldn't give you a second glance if you were riding a zebra with your hair on fire. Second, Zubaz are not all-weather gear. Arrive back freezing and dispirited.
1:02 p.m.: IM Youngna to find a fashion site I can use to put together my outfit collage. Reply: "dude, are you trying to Polyvore your own outfit?" I type: "maybe" She says: "i call your look: hip hop zonkey. are those laceless motocross high tops?"
1:12 p.m.: a Google search for "celebrities in Zubaz" turns up disappointingly little.
4 p.m.: Three hours have flown by while sitting in my Zubaz—their airy lightness allowed me to get into a deep state of flow. Having some anxiety that this could be the very high point of my stunt-outfit journalism—ward it off by researching assless chaps.
5:25 p.m.: All this matzah we have lying around the office is making me feel kind of bloated. I'm really appreciating the elastic waistband on these Zubaz.
5:45 p.m.: Finishing the day with a laid-back zubazulous drink with the staff at the new wine bar on Jay Street. Ultimately, I think this is what Zubaz are about: friends and coworkers hanging out, laughing, staring at my pants.
Verdict: Very comfortable, especially for lounging around at home or exercising at the gym. Not recommended for wearing outside or at work.