I am extremely skilled in the fine art of destroying jeans. In fact, the ability to ruin a pair of expensive jeans might be my superpower, in case they decide to remake the Avengers and need another character. I don’t destroy them on purpose, instead I put them on and wear them for a while and then shortly thereafter they turn into denim shreds, holding together by just little bits of denim, or whatever the threads are that make up denim. This is how I discovered Denim Therapy. This company is located in New York, or some other Eastern city with a state’s name, but that doesn’t matter. They are located far away from here, and how I found out about them I’m not entirely sure.
Here’s how this works. You buy some jeans. Then you wear those jeans. Then those jeans get holes in them. Then you send those jeans in a box, or a bag, to New York, or somewhere. Then the little denim weavers at Denim Therapy fix those jeans and mail them back to you. For these repairs they charge roughly twice as much as a normal pair of Levis, but that’s not the point. The point is that they fix jeans, and they have fixed many, many pairs of my jeans. Once they fix these jeans, and long after they have mailed them back to me, they begin an email assault. Daily, hourly, bi-hourly, they send emails. They get the most out of their Constant Contact account, while I, do not.
The problem isn’t in the way that they magically repair jeans. The problem is with their email from this early morning. The headline said something about Fall Jeans. I didn’t read the rest of it. Nor did I open the email. It was enough to read those two words. And this is why I mustn’t ever send those people my jeans again. They want it to be fall so people can wear jeans. Because if people wear jeans, they wear holes in their jeans, and if they wear holes in their jeans, you get the idea.
I made a big mistake last week. I went to see a movie at night and it was a bit of a chilly evening. So I put on some jeans. And then yesterday evening, while hanging my legs off the side of a Laser sailboat that my son was captaining, I thought about the sin that I had committed. My poor, poor legs. They didn’t deserve to be swaddled in August denim. They deserved to do what they were doing then. To be free from pant legs, to be hanging in the water, to be kissed by the fading golden sun.
Denim Therapy would have me think otherwise. They want me, and you for that matter, to be sorting through our closets right now, picking through which jeans are whole and which jeans need some seamless patching. This is what they want us to do, and this is what I refuse to do. I am wearing shorts today, and I will wear shorts tomorrow, and if I’m lucky enough to wake up on Friday morning I’m going to wear shorts then too. Jeans are for October. Beat it, jeans.
The front lawn above belongs to my newest lakefront listing at 282 Circle Parkway. It’s nice. It’s unique. You should come see it.