Harry Styles has certainly worn zippier things than these, which he trotted out — no, not trotted; shlumped — exactly a year ago. But, as they say, never forget. For every wild Gucci suit or glorious Vogue spread Harry gives us, there is a pair of costume trousers that obviously once went to the track on the body of someone’s grandfather so he could put a crisp five-dollar bill on a hot tip from his barber Sal. They smell lightly of cigar smoke and there’s a crumpled up racing form in the pocket, and whenever Harry puts them on, he finds himself yelling things like, “Go on my son,” to a person running to catch a taxi. They’re The Brotherhood of the Traveling Grandfather Pants, coming soon to a Netflix near you.