Threadbare

Dearest Rachel –

This is the sort of thing that, once upon a time, I would be writing to apologize to you about (and in fact, maybe that’s part of what I’m doing right now, when you come down to it); or, further back, I wouldn’t be doing at all, since you would claim that we could use the fabric at some point for… something. And in fairness, the internet seems to have pictures of jean material being used for just about everything – and always creating a portmanteau beginning with “j”, like “joots” and “jairs” for boots and stairs upholstered in blue denim – but both of us know that we’d never practice such clever recycling. After all, you made a point of virtually never wearing jeans at all (although I think you had a purple pair that, by virtue of the color, you made an exception for, but you still didn’t like the feel of it all that much), so you never had much of them to dispose of in the first place, but here I go with not one, but two pairs in one go.

Not that I ever intended to do so, but here’s the thing; for all that distressed and threadbare jeans have had a certain cachet to them for years now (although I find it a little strange; the sensation of catching your foot on the knee while putting them on, as well as that of the open air on that knee as you’re walking around, is a taste I’ve never quite acquired), there’s one place where it’s never really acceptable for pants to have a hole in them, and that’s the crotch. And once you get a pair of jeans with a hole there, it’s settled; you’re not wearing them out in public ever again, unless you’re really proud of what you’ve got down there, in which case, why are you wearing jeans rather than, say, a codpiece or some such?

The weird thing is that they always seem to fail in this particular area. I remember the comedian Gallagher claiming that certain garments for the lower half of the body “ought to have a big double knee on them; it’s the knee that gets all the wear,” but for all his complaining about reinforcing the crotch (granted, he was talking more about pantyhose than jeans, and there are… other reasons… for this last layer of textile defense to be there aside from looks and durability), I’ve never had a blowout in the knee that I can recall. Then again, given the vagaries of fashion that I mentioned earlier, a threadbare knee wouldn’t preclude continued use; indeed, it might just give it the prized ‘distressed’ look that, if not all the rage these days, still has a certain vogue to it.

Meanwhile, switching over to a second pair of jeans proved to be only a slight improvement:

Here’s the other thing about this situation, though. Both of these pairs of jeans are 40-inches around. And while I have put on weight since reaching my nadir (and it’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere close to that point), I’m still a decided 38-inch waist these days. So getting a new pair with the proper waist, and getting rid of these two pairs isn’t all that troublesome for me to do – in fact, thanks to credit card points, getting a replacement doesn’t even cost me anything, which would have pleased you – aside from the sense that I still ought to let you know, and try to explain myself in the process.

It’s not as if these jeans haven’t served me well; the second pair, in particular, accompanied me halfway around the world, with a tool strap that I used to carry my selfie stick on a number of occasions. Maybe, if you were have acquiesced to their disposal, you might insist on burning them out of respect, as with a well-worn flag, while keeping a few seamless swatches for patches that you would never use.

But Daniel and I don’t use the fireplace much anymore (if at all, truth be told), and we know better than to think that we’re ever going to re-use any of this fabric elsewhere. For one thing, we’ve long since given up the old sewing machine; for another, it’s been easier to replace items than mend them – like now.

I’ve just got to check and make sure I’m not throwing out any pocket change with them when I put them out with the trash.