Why I Think Trackpants Should Stay Inside

Let me preface this by saying I am not a fashion critic.

I’m not here to judge your colour palette or tell you which shoes go with which belt. I’ve worn the same navy jumper for the past ten winters and will continue to do so until the sleeves fall off. But even with all that said, there is one modern trend that unsettles me deeply.

Trackpants.
In public.
In broad daylight.
With pride.

No. Absolutely not.

Now, I’m all for comfort. I’m retired. Comfort is the name of the game. But there’s a line. And in my humble, Brisbane-based opinion, that line is crossed the moment you leave your house in elastic-waisted fleece and call it an outfit.

Trackpants are for three things:

1. Sleeping.
   
   

2. Gardening (maybe).
   
   

3. Recovering from food poisoning.
   
   

They are not for shopping. They are not for dining. And they are certainly not for airports, cafes, post offices, or attending any event where you might reasonably encounter another human being.

I remember a time when people dressed up to go out. A time when a trip to the local shops warranted a pressed shirt, clean shoes, and perhaps even a splash of aftershave if you were feeling bold. I’m not saying we should return to neckties and fedoras just to buy milk, but would it kill us to wear trousers with buttons?

The thing about trackpants is they don’t just signal comfort—they scream “I’ve given up.” They hang limply off the body like a soggy promise. They collect dog hair, retain suspicious odours, and stretch in all the wrong places. No one has ever looked powerful in trackpants. No one has ever made a strong first impression in grey marle with a drawstring.

And don’t tell me, “But Bernard, these are designer trackpants!” If you had to spend $180 for them to look intentionally lazy, you’ve been conned. Fancy logos and side stripes don’t disguise the fact that your outfit was originally invented for sweating indoors and avoiding people—not making a public appearance at Woolworths.

Yes, yes, I hear the arguments. “But Bernard, we live in a more relaxed time.” Do we? Then explain to me why people wear $300 shoes with trackpants. Or gold watches with hoodies. It’s like no one can agree on what we’re doing anymore. Are you relaxing or are you auditioning for a TikTok ad? Pick a lane.

And don’t even get me started on “athleisure.” I’m sorry, but adding the word “leisure” to the end of something doesn’t make it stylish. I have “snackleisure” outfits too, but I wouldn’t wear them to the dentist.

Now, before you think I’m being cruel or outdated, know this: I own trackpants. Of course I do. I’ve got a pair that should have been retired in 2014 but still make the occasional appearance during particularly slow mornings. I love them. But I also respect them. And that means I never, ever take them outside the front gate.

There’s something to be said for keeping certain things private. Not everything needs to be public-facing. Some clothes—like some thoughts—are meant to stay within the safety of our own walls. Trackpants are one of them.

I believe we show a bit of dignity when we dress like we’ve thought about it—even if it’s just a decent pair of jeans and a shirt that still has its collar. It says, “I’m here. I’ve made a small effort for your eyeballs.” And that, to me, is a kind gesture in a world where too many people are showing up like they just rolled out of a beanbag.

There’s something about stepping outside in “real clothes” that changes your posture. That changes the way you carry yourself. You feel like a participant in the day, not just a background character. It’s not about fashion. It’s about form.

And don’t mistake this for elitism. I’m not suggesting we all dress like we’re on the red carpet. I’m suggesting we leave some mystery. I don’t need to see the elastic waistband of your Sunday recovery pants while I’m trying to pick apples.

So if you’re reading this while wearing trackpants in a café, please know I say all this with love. You deserve better. And so do your knees.

Let’s raise the bar together. Let’s keep the trackpants for nights in, not days out. Let’s bring back the quiet dignity of putting on a pair of pants with a zip. Let’s remind ourselves that comfort is good, but self-respect is better when it has belt loops.

And if you absolutely must leave the house in trackpants—say, to run from a fire or chase a runaway dog—I’ll allow it. But please… change as soon as you get home.

Bernard Michael Rochford
Comfort Advocate | Trouser Traditionalist | Proud Trackpant Hermit