Two nerdy siblings watching a Star Trek marathon. One says, “Pants.”
That would be me.
My little brother looks at me, puzzled for a moment, then smiles. “No pants!”
We’re both total dorks. When we get together we flop on the sofa, drink Boddingtons and watch movies starring special effects and pipe-dream technology. And we recently realized that, as dated as, say, “The Wrath of Khan” looks, the costume designers made some effort to keep the fashions century-neutral.
Apparently the only way to do this is to put everyone in pajamas, jumpsuits, capris and manpris, miniskirts, robes and toga-type things. I suppose the intergalactic etiquette calls for eschewing jeans in situations that might feature robots.