Jemimah Wright, commissioning editor of Woman Alive online, thought she was doing the sensible thing by praying for God’s protection before heading out for an evening walk on holiday. What she didn’t realise was that the biggest threat to her safety wasn’t lurking in the shadows – it was a pair of mustard-yellow Zara trousers.
After both Sophia Money-Coutts in The Telegraph and Susie Lethbridge in The Times warned this week about the hidden dangers of Zara’s famous wide-leg trousers, I realised I had my own run-in with the cult fashion item. This is how it happened…
I love fashion. I love bright colours. So when I spotted a pair of mustard-yellow wide-leg Zara trousers that didn’t cost a fortune, I bought them immediately, imagining all the places I’d wear them. Then Covid arrived.
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Instead of making glamorous appearances, my fabulous new trousers were mostly confined to my garden, where they featured in a lockdown flower-crown photoshoot during the summer of 2020. As a result, I never really discovered their hidden danger.
I wasn’t cycling to work in London or sprinting for trains. I simply hadn’t realised quite how much fabric existed around ankle level. And that’s saying something, because I’m nearly 5ft 11in. For anyone shorter, they must have posed an even greater tripping hazard.
The trousers survived lockdown. Then, in 2022, I packed them for a holiday in South Africa with my new husband and his adult children. One evening, while everyone else was engrossed in a board game, I wandered down to the beach alone to watch the sunset. I knew South Africa required a little more awareness than I was used to in Britain, so before I left I prayed a quick prayer asking God to keep me safe. What never crossed my mind was that the greatest danger wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was hanging from my waist.
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The sunset was spectacular. I stood thanking God for everything that had happened over the previous year, including my whirlwind romance and marriage - read the story here. But I stayed a little too long. By the time I realised how dark it had become, the atmosphere had shifted from peaceful to unsettling. Suddenly, being alone didn’t feel quite so idyllic. I decided the sensible thing to do was run back to our Airbnb.
My first mistake had been attempting to run while wearing what felt like three metres of flowing Zara fabric.
This was, in hindsight, my second mistake. My first mistake had been attempting to run while wearing what felt like three metres of flowing Zara fabric. Within seconds, my elegant wide-leg trousers transformed into something resembling an angry octopus. One leg wrapped itself around the other. My feet vanished beneath a sea of mustard-yellow material. The next thing I knew, I was airborne.
I crashed spectacularly onto the ground, smashing my shin against a rock. Blood immediately began soaking into the very trousers I’d loved so much. It was one of those falls where your first instinct isn’t to check whether you’re hurt, it’s to check whether anyone saw. Thankfully, the beach was empty, but unfortunately, I still had to get home.
I hobbled back as best I could, every step sending pain through my leg. Thankfully, my husband had started to worry and came looking for me. He found me limping back towards the house, bruised, bleeding and considerably less glamorous than when I’d set off. Over the next few days, a spectacular lump developed on my shin. It looked alarming enough to justify a trip to the doctor, who thankfully confirmed nothing was broken. The trousers, however, didn’t survive. I donated them soon afterwards, deciding they posed too much of a health risk. The whole episode has made me laugh ever since, but it’s also made me think.
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As Christians, we’re often encouraged to pray for safe journeys, our families, our health and God’s protection over our daily lives. But has anyone ever prayed over their trousers? “Lord, please stop my Zara wide-leg trousers from becoming an instrument of my downfall.” Probably not.
Looking back, though, I can see God’s kindness all over that evening.
Looking back, though, I can see God’s kindness all over that evening. I wasn’t seriously injured. My husband came looking for me at exactly the right moment. Nothing was broken. What could have become a frightening experience became one of those family stories that grows funnier every time it’s retold. It also reminds me that God’s protection doesn’t always mean preventing every fall. Psalm 121 tells us: “He will not let your foot slip.”
Clearly, the psalmist never owned a pair of Zara wide-leg trousers. But perhaps that’s missing the point. The promise isn’t that we’ll never stumble. Scripture is full of people who did exactly that, sometimes physically, often spiritually. The promise is that even when we fall, we never fall beyond God’s reach.
Most of us won’t face giants with slings or walk through parted seas. Instead, we’ll encounter life’s own unexpected hazards: awkward conversations, frightening diagnoses, disappointing seasons… or a pair of fashionable trousers. God cares about all of it, nothing is too ordinary, too trivial or even too ridiculous to bring before him.
We don’t have to pretend our faith exists only in life’s profound moments. Often it’s forged in the wonderfully mundane, the deeply embarrassing and the utterly laughable. I still admire wide-leg trousers from a distance. They’re elegant, they’re fashionable. But you’ll never catch me running in a pair again.
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