Back from the Brink of Extinction, Zubaz Pants Are Ready To Take Flight Again (Unlike the Dodo)

They're ranked No. 1 among WWE.com's Greatest Tag Teams in sports-entertainment history. According to their 2005 documentary, they "snacked on danger and dined on death." Who am I talking about? The Road Warriors, the most dominant tag team in the history of professional wrestling. Michael "Hawk" Hegstrand and Joseph "Animal" Laurinaitis were the premiere tandem in the 80s and 90s, becoming the only duo to win tag team championships in three different associations, including the WCW and the WWF.

Why were they so dominating? Some would point to their intimidating appearance, which resembled an unholy amalgamation of Mad Max costuming and Kiss makeup. The most obvious answer would be their high-flying finishing move, known as the Doomsday Device, for which Hawk would spring from the top turnbuckle to deliver an airborne clothesline to a helpless victim in the unenviable "electric chair" position atop Animal's shoulders. A move so difficult and dangerous that these fans—all three of whom are very cool and very grown up—were left no other option than to reenact it in the safety of a Days Inn swimming pool, with pool noodles floating close by. After a splashy ending, the woman who's filming asks, "Is he still alive?" Not if for the five foot watery cushion of the shallow end...


My opinion? The Road Warriors owed their greatness to their legwear—not the tights they wore in the ring; the Zubaz pants they wore outside of it. Hawk and Animal, along with other wrestling superstars who stepped into the pants, helped propel Zubaz into a 90s fashion phenomenon.

One of those superstars was Jesse "The Body" Ventura (drawn as a cartoon here, matching a black leather jacket with black and white Zubaz). Who could have imagined, let alone predicted, that by the end of the decade, a man who's previous job didn't require a shirt (but did require a feather boa) would win the governorship of Minnesota? To commemorate his unexpected triumph, a toy manufacturer released a doll of him. Wearing Zubaz pants. Here it is on ebay. How the auctioneer resisted the temptation to remove The (scaled-down) Body from the packaging, I don't know.

Did you know he was sworn in as Governor in Zubaz? If you did, then you're misinformed, because he wore a suit and tie. Would have been sweet, though.

Were they baggy through the loins? Yes. Were they tapered at the ankle? Absolutely. Were they elastic at the waist, with a drawstring? Of course. But if they were anything, Zubaz were a statement. A very loud and bold one, which, as evidenced by this video of a runway populated by men only in Zubaz pants, was also a fashionable one. For Pete's sake, the Piano Man, Billy Joel, rocked them. The titular line of his hit song from 1989 was proven wrong—we did start the fire, by wearing outrageously named pants (officially pronounced "zoo-buzz," although popularly also "zoo-baz") with even more outrageous colors and designs.

The adoption of the legwear by prominent NFL stars of the time, like Troy Aikman and Dan Marino, surely helped fuel the craze. But how else could you sartorially declare your allegiance to your chosen NFL team via its official colors graphically arranged in zebra print? It's difficult to tell how hot Zubaz got; unless, that is, you've got a thermometer that can measure the temperature of 100 million in sales for 1991.

And I bet they didn't pay a dime (probably a lot more) for the publicity generated by this music video, a parody of MC Hammer's hit "U Can't Touch This" performed by the 1991 Dolphins football team, who rap, dance and "play" instruments (including a keytar) while wearing Zubaz pants. There's nothing cooler than driving an aqua green '91 Corvette with cheerleaders in the backseat—except coming up a mall escalator next to a Hooters waitress, wearing an all white tux with no shirt under the jacket.

You can't touch this doll. Seriously. If you do, it'll decrease the value by 30%.


But just as quickly as it had heated up, the pant-emonium cooled off. Which, in hindsight, seems appropriate, considering who eventually incorporated the fashion into their wardrobe. Originally created as roomier workout gear for bodybuilders, Zubaz ended up providing room for people simply building more of their body via Oscar Meyer products and Busch beer. And contrarily, but equally suffocating to the fad, were the people hoping to create the illusion of more body than they had. Everything dies when it loses its soul (at least that's what I learned as a kid from watching All Dogs Go to Heaven). Zubaz were created to collect sweat beads earned in the weight room, not to soak up swamp ass cooked up on the couch, or sac sweat triggered by conversation with a cute girl.

South of the Mason-Dixon Line, the purchase of Zubaz came with a convenience store token, redeemable for one 12-pack of Busch Light. In the North, the pants were 10% off if purchased with a Casio calculator watch.


Just like Cougar in Top Gun, the zebra print pants "lost the edge"—probably from the drawstring "holding on too tight" to beer bellies. By the mid-90s, most people had returned to wearing more traditional leg garb, like Wrangler jeans, Dockers khakis, and Reebok nylon pants. Most people.

Even to this day, if peering through the observation telescopes from the top floor of the Sears Tower, there's still a chance, especially on a Sunday in the fall, of glimpsing blue and orange striped Bears Zubaz pants on the streets below in Chicago—most likely on a middle-aged man with a mustache, stepping out of a '91 Camaro with t-tops. And now those bold men, who chose not to abandon their stripes just because of changing "tastes" or tough mustard stains, now have reason to celebrate.

Zubaz pants are back! And this time around, they're only available at the Zubaz website, where it declares them the perfect party pant: "Showing up in the comfort and style of Zubaz, everyone will want to buy you a pint!" And probably take a picture with you on their camera phone (maybe two, if her face looks fat in the first one). The website also says the pants "are often imitated, but never duplicated." I can second that.

My pants—the ones I take flight in while spin kicking above benches, landscaping, and people's expectations in my movie MOJO by DOJO—were made by an obscure imitator called Arcade POWERWEAR. They're roomy, tapered, and boldy patterned just like Zubaz; although, I wouldn't say mine duplicate the original. But don't be mistaken. Even though they're not Zubaz, I've still got a party going on in my pants. According to the label, they're 50% polyester, 50% cotton. According to me, they're 100% sexiness—just like my sensei, Jean-Claude Van Damme. The label also says "one size." There's no "fits all" at the end, because, frankly, parachute pants aren't for fat-asses. And that's 100% truth.

Unlike the Dodo bird, Zubaz managed to come back from extinction. But will they take flight? The Dodo never could—and that's why Mother Nature teamed with Father Evolution to give 'em the Doomsday Device.

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