11.18.08
Waiting with panted breath . . .
In a previous post I promised (I knew you were holding your breath) for more on word origins from commedia dell’ arte, an Italian theatre form (beginning in the 1500s) combining improvisation and standard bits actors could weave in at appropriate moments. Yesterday’s theatre/etymology lesson showed how this improv style gave us the word zany. I talked about zany in the midst of a running theme about names, and the word pants has double origins in names.
One of the stock characters in commedia dell’ arte was Pantalone, generally a miserly, leering patrician codger. Apparently, Pantalone was Venetian; the patron saint of Venice was St. Pantaleone, and Venetians were known as Pantalonis by association with their saint. On stage, the Pantalone stereotype generally wore tight-fitting legwear that came to be known as pantaloons. (I sometimes wonder if that’s why pantaloons and eventually pants are in the plural—ultimately a misinterpretation of the possessive Pantalone’s, perhaps?—but I suspect that on the evidence of breeches and trousers, the plural comes from the fact that humans generally have more than one leg.)
The specific type of tight-fitting trousers were called pantaloons in the 1600s, and by the 1700s the word was applied to trousers (as opposed to knee breeches) in general. By the mid 1830s, the word had been shortened to pants (unrelated to the pants Pantalone did when leering at the female characters).
So wear your pants knowing that they have their origins in making light of old folk (and in fact the word pantaloon by the 1600s meant “old codger”). And men, keep your pants on lest you be accused of being a dirty old man like the commedia dell’ arte dirty old man who kept his pants on. (Particularly good advice for men in England, where pants are underwear.)
Finally, if you’re like me, facing more gray hair than I like in places I like even less, growing old should not scare the pants off you. It should scare the pants onto you.

