My jeans should be willed to the Smithsonian, they’re that old and tattered…sewn, stitched, patched, the original denim humbly peeking through.
If they could only talk, the tales they could tell.
We’ve been through a lot together, well traveled, zipped on and off in choice hotels, on lover’s couches, draped drowsily over a chair.
I remember once leaving them behind after a break-up, the man in question mailing them back UPS. It might have been the nicest thing he ever did, returning them, since I’d be lost without their familiar feel.
The cotton is so soft from how many washings, a few hundred at least?
A tailor I’d bring them to, one day refused to fix them again, said I couldn’t even make proper napkins out of them.
I recall getting mad, calling him a snob, and he was, being the tailor to the stars, which was why I employed him because my jeans deserve the very best.
Signature possessions are important. They represent who you are.
I’ve never been a faddish girl who shopped through the eyes of Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar. I had my own style, according to my mother, from the time I could walk.
She did tend to exaggerate. What, did I have diapers in assorted colors? She never said, and now we’ll never know.
But the fact that my wardrobe in general never changes, needing only occasional replenishment, like if a pair of pumps or Chucks wear out, or tights that have seen their day, will tell you a little something about me.
I’m solid, sated in tradition rather than the ephemeral.
There’s comfort in continuity…flow in the familiar, like my trusty Lees, their pockets still keeping my thumbs warm as I hook them in their folds.
How they loiter around my hips even when belted.
Loose, soft and comfy.
What else can I say except, putting them on is like coming home.
That’s us, me and Lee, payin’ the rent.
SB
I’ve had some pretty ratty jeans over the years. The wife insists on throwing them out, I say “over my dead body!”
“They have holes.”
“So. What!”
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YOU SAID IT PAL. I MAY INSURE MINE, AGAINST FIRE AND THEFT. π
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PS I read part one and two.. Waiting on the finale. There’s one coming, right? You’re not in one of your no writing modes…you’re always so chipper after you’ve penned something…aren’t we all. π
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??? Not sure what youβre referring to.
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You’re essay. The one about the accident.
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Aah. Got it. That was a short story I wrote and then tweaked. Not sure there will be more. π
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I thought there might be. i guess I liked it so much, I wanted more. Now that’s a good sign.
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I don’t have any jeans…my shape is short waisted and jeans are no good on me…no good at all. But…I seem to have a love affair with my jackets. My favorite is so ratty in places that are seemingly unfixable or patchable but I wear it as is and always ‘at home’ in it. It’s downright chic…I think even Coco would love it. Good things clothes can’t talk, wowee!!! Love this ‘you and Lee payin’ the rent’…holey Lee-oley!
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It’s nice to have things that you like.
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I just threw away four pair of jeans at Lise’s quiet insistence. All edges were frayed, stringingly so. One had fashionable holes in unfashionable places. They were not new when we moved here six years ago. Why did I let them go? I’ve changed shape, and they were in danger of falling down when I walked. No one would want to be around me if they did.
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LOVE… One had fashionable holes in unfashionable places. Has such a nice sway to it. You write so beautifully Anne, no matter what you’re wearing.
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Thank you. I just let words play around on the screen until they are satisfied.
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As that great sage Jane Austen would say…your modesty does you credit. π
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I need all the credit I can get!
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I’m your biggest fan. You’re so quick and clever. Your command of language always awe-inspiring. REALLY!!!
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I could say the same of you, and you’d deflect it.
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Modesty with a side order of humble pie, is very attractive, don’t you think? π
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Attractive, but not so tasty.
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I prefer Key Lime myself. π
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For me, chocolate is key.
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You got me here. sigh
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Not really. I’ve lost the train of thought. We took Lise to the airport this afternoon, and the house is very empty.
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I’m sorry. sigh. But how wonderful that she came and I’m sure, will again. Hug John, a lot. Hugs heal. Along with Oreos and milk. π
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Hugs and Oreos! We had a box of Oreos with dark chocolate filling while Lise was here. Have you had those??
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YES…I’m the Oreo Poster Girl.
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PS Is that you in the ad?
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Yes…my bottom half. My head apparently didn’t make the cut.
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I wasn’t sure I interpreted your closing lines correctly and didn’t know if you would mind our knowing. Thank you very much for satisfying my curiosity.
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It was unusual for me to run a photo of myself in that way, but it seemed apt at the time. I also kinda like that my head is missing. It’s funny.
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I was thrilled to view your work. Seeing a part of you was better than nothing. It was a good marketing ploy, because we had to concentrate on the jeans.
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Wonder where my head is now? π
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Your head is firmly on your head where it belongs. Only the image of it was discarded, I imagine.
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Yeah, but you know how heads tend to roll. π
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You’re on a roll.
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with lettuce and tomato. π
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You can roll in the SAND; WHICH way will you go?
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I’ll have it on wry.
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That should wrap it up.
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Saran-ly.
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Foiled again!
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Waxing is better than waning, after all.
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I’m not mooning about!
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Not even mooning your friends?
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Good heavens! NO!!! They would die of fright.
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Come on, they’d be over the moon. π
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They’d be STARtled out of their gourds.
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Why on EARTH, would you say that?
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It’s the truth. I didn’t PLANET that way.
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As long as you keep your SUNNY disposition.
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I’ll try not to let anything cloud my thinking.
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Or rain on your parade. π
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You win.βΊοΈπβΊοΈ
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SINCE WHEN. You’re humoring me.
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Make that honoring you.
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Yes Grasshopper. I’m just the student after all.
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If I could spell it, I’d say we are colleagues.
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I like that. π
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I still have a pair of button-fly jeans that I got in the early 70s. I wear them occasionally but will admit the buttons are a pain nowadays. Not sure why I still have them. Maybe the button fly was always a pain. I like the rent paying photo with you and Lee.
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Headless me. Should tell me something.
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Yes, include the head for additional residuals. π
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My head ended up on the editing floor. Poor head.
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Yeah but your ankles are still there.
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That’s true, and taking bows, those haughty, naughty ankles of mine.
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They should. π
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I’ll tell them. π
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π
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I’ve got a pair of Lees in my closet from back in the day. I call them my Comeback jeans because they’re the pair I wore after I lost a ton of weight in my early twenties. I had bulked up playing football in high school and when I stopped those workouts after, all those muscle turned into a two hundred and forty pound individual who was driving down a one way street quickly. Those Lees met me on the other side of that mess and while I don’t wear em any longer, excepting for the sheer hell of it in order to feel good about where I got to, I don’t expect I will ever ditch them.
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Frame’em. I mean it. I would. They sound great.
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They’re special
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I guess when one is such as you are, there are no fluctuations in sizes… so any jeans I may have had that I adored, I no longer fit into. Any I have now, I do NOT want to fit into later…
Ah well.
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I don’t mean to laugh, but the last line is funny, your humor poking a hole in your chagrin.
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You are supposed to laugh, Susannah. I always try to tease the funny bone, when I can.
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A great practice. How was your soiree?
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I like to think so.
Are you talking about my Canada Day get-together? It was wonderful. These people I went to school with, that I’ve known for, ahem, 40 years…
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Yes…you were a little nervous about it. Bet it was wonderful..great food. Zeke was there to meet and greet.
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I was. But get this…my pool ended up NOT ready so we went around the corner to one of our gang’s house… which was a good thing because HER pool was working and we all needed to dip as the temps went up into the 90’s… Everyone was on the up and up and there was no hugging going on (which is REALLY difficult with this gang).
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But you know what was great, and to quote my late, great friend Jackie, you made lemonade out of lemons. You made it all work. it’s very impressive. It’s the new norm, to press on wearing different colors, and hues never worn before. We’re such a resilient species when you think about it.
It’s been hot here too, like the air has stopped moving. Yesterday at around 4, it got eerily dark before the skies opened. I ran home, just before.
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Always. It’s just how I roll. And yes, we are resilient, adapting to whatever is thrown out way.
I sure wish our skies would open up. They’ve been predicting thunderstorms for two weeks and all we’ve had is an occasional clap with a 15-minute shower.
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We had that…the two week drum roll, but now they’re saying it for teh whole week. Too hot for Wellies, so I have images of damp, smelly sneaks lining the hallway.
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They are calling for one tonight… I shan’t hold my breath. But the pool is up and running so I shall not fret, either!
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You made me think of the film, The Philadelphia Story, when Katharine Hepburn swan dives into the pool. One of my favorite flicks.
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So good! Love this one and have seen it umpteen times.
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Me too. She was so great in it, and owned the rights to it. Howard Hughes, a smitten boyfriend of hers, bought them for her. Forget flowers and candy.
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She was (and in pretty much anything she did).
I loved that they included their relationship in “The Aviator” with Leo.
Way better gift than flowers and candy for sure!
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She’s so interesting to read about. Her devotion to Spencer Tracy for one. Gave love a whole new spin.
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My old levi jeans are a bit worn out, sort of like old me. But we both live on.
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Can you hear me clapping?
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I don’t own a pair of jeans any more but I understand what you mean. Maybe retirement is a good time to run a new pair in?
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They kinda spoil you for normal trousers. I have a wonderful pair of black slacks that next to Lee, feel like burlap. As nice as they look, I rarely wear them.
New jeans in a jiffy, get soft. Yes, buy a new pair.
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There is nothing like a comfy pair of jeans, not too snug or loose. I usually keep them until the butt wears so thin that it rips. If only a repairer to the stars lived in this neck of the woods!
Love your ad!
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I found a new lady who isn’t scared of anything. Of course, my rear looks like a hand basket, but…so be it. π
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