Fancy Pants: St. John Knit Trousers

Big news: I got dressed the other day. It only lasted a couple of hours, and I of course didn’t leave the house, but the experience was positively exhilarating.

The impetus for this anomaly was the delivery of a recent purchase I made from Thredup: a pair of navy blue, Santana-knit, wool-blend pants by St. John. I’d ordered these pants about a week prior when I saw something similar on Instagram.

Cashmere pants, or “sweater pants,” have had a kind of surge since COVID began and working from home became the norm. Originally seen as pajama pants, they seemed to cross over into daywear as the pandemic progressed. Slave to comfort that I am, I took note. After all, I wear a sweater-onesie to exercise in.

And then one day I had a flash of insight— I’d seen these kind of pants before. While selling thrifted clothes on Ebay and studying what types of clothing were big money-makers, I discovered the cult-favorite, St. John sweater pants.

Upon finding a them in thrift stores, I’d always get excited, knowing they’d make a significant profit. There was even one lucky day when I found two pairs in a Salvation Army for a dollar each— not a stain or snag to speak of.

At the time, I found them a bizarre thing to want to buy, and an even more bizarre thing to pay big money for. But researching the brand, I realized just how expensive these things are brand new: $495 a pair. Suddenly it didn’t seem so strange to be able to charge $100 for them secondhand.

There are a number of styles of St. John knit pants— wide-leg, straight-leg, flat-front, pleat-front, etc. But the most common desirable feature seems to be that they are made of “Santana knit”— an important Ebay keyword.

From the resale site FineClothing.com

I never tried on any of those St. John pants that I sold on Ebay, so I still didn’t quite get the allure. Why were rich ladies so into these? Well, let me tell you, because I’ve absolutely crossed over into being one of their super-fans.

First of all, when I ordered these pants from Thredup, I felt like I had made use of some semi-secret knowledge. The kids on Instagram definitely didn’t know about St. John knit pants— their knit pants all came from the British brand Arket or &OtherStories, and cost them a couple hundred quid.

But I managed to find these St. John ones on Thredup for $22.99. While the Ebay options were vast, you simply couldn’t beat the price of these Thredup ones that had fallen through the cracks. I used some credit that I had on Thredup from selling them my old clothes, and they were delivered within the week.

As the days passed between order and delivery, my expectations waned. Surely these were so cheap for a reason. Maybe the owner had thrown them in the washer and dryer, and they were deformed beyond their former glory (St. John knits must be dry-cleaned only, at least according to their website).

But when I opened them up and tried them on, I was pleasantly surprised. First of all, these size 10s were a perfect fit. The waistband was comfortably taut whether I pulled them all the way up to my natural waist or wore them lower down on my hips. The rise was incredibly generous, and the straight-leg, pleat-front style draped beautifully. It looked like I was wearing tailored trousers— there was even a crease down the front of the leg.

I’d been a little unsure of what to pair with navy sweater-pants, but I popped on my navy Ponte-knit swing top and it worked great. As for shoes, my Adidas sneakers seemed my best bet. They gave me a little Florida-retiree vibe (which is actually kind of hip right now), but also gave the pants a bit of an edge.

The pockets were deep and silky, and the hems draped nicely over my shoes. The waistband was a little itchy— they are wool, after all— so I tucked my top in and marveled at how that worked great, too. I got a little chilly while sitting in my office, so I threw on a cardigan. Here, I hesitated: could sweater-on-sweater actually work? Lo and behold, it did. My camel cashmere J. Crew cardigan (also from Thredup) has a very fine weave, while the pants’ weave is thicker and more textured. The contrast in color and texture made it work, so it didn’t look weird at all.

Spurred on by my styling success, I explored St. John’s website, stjohnknits.com. Started in 1962 in California, St. John boasts wearers like Hillary Clinton and Angelina Jolie. Prices range from $495 for a pair of Milano knit pants to $1,595 for a cashmere sweater. I gloated over my bargain find.

I took a break to make a coffee when Matt walked into the kitchen. He was taken aback at finding me in real clothes and asked if he was on the Upper East Side or something. Self-conscious, I demonstrated how deeply I could lunge in my new pants. I then pointed out my round belly beneath the high waistband in another attempt at self-deprecation. But there was no denying that I felt good. I’d made a somewhat risky yet wholly successful purchase.

These pants seemed to change my whole wardrobe. Despite being neither men’s nor wide-leg pants, I felt completely myself in them. I felt like my favorite Instagrammer, Brittany Bathgate, in her tailored trousers— only more comfortable. I felt like Lizzy Hadfield in her cashmere joggers— only more stylish.

While knit pants or “sweater pants” seem to be everywhere right now, from Madewell to Saks Fifth Avenue, St. John has had 60 years to perfect them. From the knit to the drape to the rise to the pleating, these are clearly the winner.

In 2017, when Matt and I were in Germany, I bought my first pair of sweater pants. Made by a plus-size brand called Kekoo, they were on the clearance rack of a TK Maxx (the European TJ Maxx). While no one else seemed to be wearing such a thing, I knew they were onto something.

Upon returning home to the US, I felt they were just too unusual, so I sold them on Ebay. Not only were they sweater-pants, they were also balloon-leg pants, and it just seemed like too much.

But balloon pants are definitely making their way to the mainstream, the same way sweater-pants once did. And some designers have even thought to combine the two styles. It seems like maybe I was just too early— too ahead of the trends in 2017. Maybe I’m just ahead of them now. Maybe St. John will hit Instagram soon.