we don't get out much
We went to the Kitsap Mall today in Silverdale, WA.
We're fine now. Thanks for asking.
hobbitt needed new jeans. He wanted Levi's. He wanted low-risers, as they're the most comfortable for him. And oh, did they have Levi's at the Sears store there. They had about seven hundred thousand pairs of Levi's, and about nine different lines.
They had your basic shredded in the most unfortunate places model.
They had your basic drenched in used motor oil model.
And they had your basic bleached to look threadbare model.
The sight of all that caused me to change into my mother. I walked up to the 13-year-old salesgirl.
"Do you have any Levi's jeans that don't look like they've been dragged through the mud?" I asked.
She laughed nervously. "Are you buying for a teenager?" she asked me. I'm sure she was about to explain to me that the unwashed, homeless look is chic. And I'm sure it is chic. What the hell do I know? I live in Pete. We have hippies here. They're old enough by now to have indoor plumbing, so their dreadlocks are usually somewhat sweet-smelling, and their clothes, which tend to run to spandex (better on the bikes, of course) aren't shredded or bleached or oil-drenched, for the most part.
"No. I'm buying for a 53-year-old man."
She giggled, probably picturing me married to her grandfather.
We walked to JC Penneys, at the other end of the mall. They actually had a few pairs of the fit hobbitt wanted, with the threads and color intact, and looking freshly washed. Exactly two pairs, to be precise. The rest of the display made me want to wash my hands.
It was a long walk back to the car. On the way through the mall (a word I can't even type without shuddering) I noticed another thing that seems to be rather chic. Teenage girls, pregnant. There must have been a half-dozen of them. Yeah, I know I'm getting old, but I'm just not sure about this particular fashion statement. The repercussions are rather long-lived, if I remember correctly. It's all the rage up here in Pete, I'm told. I. Just. Don't. Get. It.
Then again, I don't get out all that much.
6 Comments:
You're not alone. Why in FSM's name would someone buy jeans that are already half-ruined?
and did you get the plaid boxer shorts that are supposed to show when hobbitt wears his jeans hanging off his ass?
and will someone please explain the FSM to me? does he have sauce or, does he fly sauceless?
I love jeans that are dark dark blue. Too bad there were only two pairs.
sighs... pregnant teenagers... its not fair to the offspring for them to have to deal with a selfish teenager as a mother.
i don't get it either.
Add me to the "doesn't get it" crowd. I'm not even 40 yet and I've been baffled by the mall for about 5 years now.
We get a lot of our stuff from goodwill, I can get 8+ shirts there for the cost of one or two at the mall. I'm just waiting for the day when one of the yacht clubbers recognizes something I'm wearing.
I'm not even anti-consumer, I'm just so far out of the target demographic that they don't even care if they get my attention , < sigh> I used to be cool.
"The rest of the display made me want to wash my hands."
Hahaha!
I wish more of us in this world didn't get out much.
I currently live a jeans-free life. Not that I don't want to wear them, I just can't find a pair that doesn't send me into mental anguish.
And the teenagers up the pole thing. Unfortunate, to say the least. Especially in country where with a little thought, it can all be avoided, for the time being. I can speak to the cluelessness that comes with a teenage mother from the experience of observation. When my preemie was in ICU 4 years ago, 80%-plus of the mothers with babies there were under 18. Imagine being a child and having a sick, pre-term child. The nurses there were saintly with the teenage mothers and were doing their best to put them through baby boot camp during their time in neonatal intensive care. I was a puzzle to the nurses, I think, because of my advanced age for my first baby. On numerous occassions I had to ask them to stop and explain exactly what I was supposed to do to take care of my little one. I may have been older, but I, too, was completely clueless.
Thankfully, no more babies for me and, from the looks of it, no more jeans.
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