The Wonder Pants

I am now of a certain age, where fashion is a silly idea. I've resisted, but turns out I've crossed the bridge, turned the corner, and am now firmly on the side of the elderly. I know this because of my pants.
My friend calls them "The Wonder Pants". They can do anything. They never wrinkle, they are machine washable, they feel like sweatpants, and they match most of my wardrobe. Due to some mystery of the universe, they fit me as if they were tailor made for my butt. Those are the good things. The bad things...oh, they are bad.
These pants are the sort my Nanny would wear, and she called them "slacks". They are polyester knit. Yes. Both polyester, and knit. The fabric has some stretch, through the miracle of modern fabric, so they do not have fastenings of any sort. They are pull ons. The lint, cat hair, and dust are attracted to my pants as if I am wearing a swiffer duster. The label says Comfort Fit. Seriously! I am wearing pants that the best thing the company could think of was "Well, I bet they are comfy!"
The only excuse I can think of to wear linty, stretchy, polyester elastic waist comfort fit brown slacks in public is that I am old. Elderly. Past the point of caring. But! I am comfy.