The sound of pants

In my mind, I'm the tragic heroine who suddenly goes blind but surprises the world with her supernatural hearing. But really, I'm just an intern whose back is to the corridor with the heaviest traffic and playing mind games while researching all things China.

Men's pants cling onto the wearer in distinctive ways. The pant legs rub against each other in various degrees, producing signature sounds that scream out who you are.

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses, 80s Chinese hairstyle, and the multi-color polos down the hall has wide, billowy pant legs. When he walks by, they sound as if two pieces of tissue paper, folded loosely in half, are being pushed against each other in an up and down motion.

My boss dresses in form-fitting, straight boot leg trousers that result in minimal noise. Most of the time, I know it's him because I sense the very muted presence that his pant legs create.

The middle-aged econ section reseacher slash night time professor sports relaxed khakis. Similarly, his pants produces sounds with a certain softness, unlike some which are very jarring.

Ironically, the quietest men have the noisiest pants. Perhaps it's their way of compensating.