My current pair is bulbous at the hips - read: extremely lose, torn at the non-sexy spots, and unflatteringly rolled up at the ankles. i wear that with my shoes which are the not-so-bad gladiators but the ugly overtakes the not-so-bad at making first impressions.
so, in a desperate attempt to get myself a new pair, i went jeans shopping. Now, that may be the most obvious effort for most of , and i bet a pleasurable one too, For me; it is that one event which repeats itself once every three years. You can safely estimate that a decade of styles emerge, hit it or miss it, during three years of time, and i, locked up in isolation are always detained from whats in and whats out - except that, it sounded like it it's me..
WHY, well for starters, i couldnt be bothered about stocking up my wardrobe... when i need stuff, i go out and buy that. sometimes, i procrastinate that 'need' but how would a fashion sense emerge if people did not look at current assets differently. thats how i explore my sense of [ahem, lack of] style.
so enter the "Jean Queen," in the market of battling eyelashes, suspicious changing rooms tucked away behind the shelves, and eager to haggle shopkeepers.
i coyly ask the decent looking uncrowded corner shop for "Jeans."
Yes ma'am, all variety we have." - is the friendly response.
i smile, and a stack of jeans starts to dangle around me making a noisy silence filled withcries of, "pick me,pick me."
i choose one that corresponds to my thin being and head staright to the chaging room - this one is without a latch, a slight peep toe in between the lock and the door and a mirror covered in a veil.
i protest meekly, hoping it is far from meek to the receiver. the friendly tone assures me that, "i am SAFE inside." got to belive in the intrinsic goodness of man sometimes!
pulls and tugs later i see that, the muitude of jeans is a fatter cousin of my chilhood slacks that my mum used to get for us, so indulgantly - like it was a style icon and i was always less than excited about those things!
so my next question is, [clears throat] "they all are slim fits, but would you happen to have any straight fits?" those good old neutral looking jeans that fit straight - work well and complements words such as classics and comfortable.
These spell petite, glam doll, lets see who's got a better bod. These may be just as nice, but its not me.
The friendly tone, makesa mild mockery of my question and says,"well, thats all we have nowadays." The last word stayed with me and i assured him that i will vsit him again after a short round of the market."
in my round - i bought a lady gaga sorta shirt. it has puffy stuff on one part of the sleeve after the arm. changes the silhoutte kind of thing, and i liked it. realising that a straight fit jeans is proving to be a never ending shirt i checked my odds in the other supermarket and realised that i am planning more energy into the activity than the initial objective.
i passively, bought a pair of canvas, to de-glam the pipe thin jeans and came back home afer fulfilling my commitent to the polite man at the store.
24 hours laster, i am unhappy about a particular area fit but i am already planning other shirts to go with the jeans that will act as detractor from the clingy new friends.
48 hours later, i am deeply unhappy about the fit and regret my decision have bought THAT jean but i am quite happy with the 5 other sets i have planned in my head. i am warming up to clingy, i need to make my little jean life perfect - is an instant realization.
i go back to the polite shopkeeper and ask for an exchange and i discover that the new fit is incredible. That night it feels like i hoisted the flag on a successfull shopping expedition - a point of triumph and strife, for my fiance during an argument.
the next day at work,
"what made you buy purple and why would you team that with Olive green?"- asked my best friend?
"umm, its actually the under side of a regular jeans, that's how it looks. i dont think its so bad but hey what happened to that project."
i have been able to save myself from further embarressment but my heart knows that 48 or 72 hours, i might just pay another vist to the polite shopkeeper.