I examined my blue jeans one day and realized they looked like I’d rolled down the side of a mountain in them. In other words, just the way I like them.
But I had started to recognize those “Who let him in here?” looks wherever I went and realized the time had come and probably already passed for me to buy a new pair. So I stopped for what I expected would be a quick trip to the blue jeans store.
Racks upon racks of blue jeans spread out before me as I entered the place so I went to Row A and figured I’d just flip through them until I came to the pair I wanted. I was about four hangers away from reaching them when a young man with a measuring tape around his neck stepped in between me and the jeans I intended to buy.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked politely.
[the_ad_placement id=”top-of-page”]
“Ah, yes,” I replied, answering in a way I never do as I never need help. With anything. “I’d like to buy a pair of blue jeans. That pair right …” but the blue jeans salesman cut me off as I peeked around him and pointed to the ones I wanted which were clearly in sight. They were dark blue and had four pockets, a fly and belt loops. Just the ticket.
“What kind of blue jeans were you thinking about?” the young salesman asked me nicely.
“Well, I kind of thought,” I stammered, “that pair over …” but he interjected again before I could direct him to the jeans I knew I wanted.
“What colour did you have in mind?” he asked me.
“What colour of blue jeans?” I replied, in mild astonishment. “Would blue be an outrageous choice?”
“No, of course not,” the young man laughed. “It’s just that we have other colours – black, grey, brown, beige.”
“Well,” I answered. “Shouldn’t brown blue jeans be called brown jeans?”
“I suppose so,” the clothier said, patiently. “So, you’d like blue, blue jeans, then?”
“Yes,” I said. “If you’d just hand me that …”
“Stonewashed or acidwashed?” he enquired.
“What?” I asked, my mouth dropping open.
“Stonewashed jeans are prewashed and preshrunk and are faded a light blue. Acidwashed jeans are a speckled blue with varying shades of blue all in the same fabric.”
“I had no idea,” I mumbled. “Washing clothes in acid …”
“And if you’d like the acidwashed jeans, would you prefer the plain ones or the ones with the brown leather patch on the back pocket?” he asked.
“Patch on the pocket …?”
“Then there are these,” the young man said as he flipped through a rack of semi-faded jeans.
“They’re nice,” I told him.
“Would you like the purple tab jeans or the green tab ones?” the man asked.
“What’s the difference?” I enquired.
“About 15 dollars,” he answered.
“Maybe green tab, I guess,” I whispered.
“Straight leg or superslim?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “My legs are fairly straight …”
“There’s also boot cut,” he continued.
“For rubber boots?” I wondered.
“Have you thought about a pair of painter pants?” he asked.
“Well, actually, I was thinking of wearing them for good,” I said.
“No, you misunderstand,” he said, patiently. “These are good pants. They have a white strap sewn to one leg.”
“Well, I’ll be,” I said.
[the_ad_placement id=”top-of-page”]
Before we were through, I’d tried on baggy jeans that made me look like Chuckles the Clown and a pair that fit tighter than my long underwear as well as several that looked worse than the old pair I’d worn into the store.
As I left the place, carrying an armload of four new pair of jeans, none of them like the pair I’d gone in to buy, the salesman asked in passing if I’d like to look at blue jean jackets. I glanced behind me at several racks of blue denim coats – some thin, some with thick white lining, some long and some short with furry collars. Some with zippers up the front and some with buttons. Some had snaps and domes. Some speckled. Some faded.
“Not today,” I yelled over my shoulder, and I hurried on out of the store.
“Do you have any denim shirts?” he called after me. “We have two colours.”
I let on I never heard and just kept on running. I found that’s the only way to stay one step ahead of the latest styles.
©1987 Jim Hagarty
