Nymphadora Tonks nursed a long-standing hatred against skirts. After a childhood of sundresses and seven years of the dreaded Hogwarts uniform skirt, she'd had enough. A year floundering through various menial jobs taught her that pants were an essential article of clothing; so by the time she entered Auror training, Tonks did not own a single skirt. Just pants. Mostly baggy punk jeans, but some tight vintage corduroys (as well as a few pairs of nice dress slacks) also crept into her wardrobe.
Her mum tended to wince when she saw some of Tonks's ensembles. Despite her admirable traits, Andromeda was still a Black when it came to fashion. Dad didn't seem to mind – but Dad had also worn some suspiciously cheesy outfits in his past, she thought dismissively.
Yet deep within her funky heart, the skirt still held some appeal to her. She pulled her old Yule Ball gown from the depths of her wardrobe, and ran her fingers down its silky train. The sleek lines and smooth hemline - the fluid and flawless drape of tailored seams. It intrigued her. In a skirt, could the gawky Tonks gain poise and purpose?
She shook her head, and shoved the garment to the back of her closet. It would take more than a change of clothing to rid her of all clumsiness.