Robins Jeans from Neiman Marcus
Cue eye roll and gag noises from the minimalist peanut gallery.
$425? Seriously? (But please, if someone you know bought these - or is thinking about buying them - please, implore them to tell me why. I am seriously interested in the demographics and thought patterns of the target market.)
I recently made my own jeans-related booboo. Not a $425 one, mind you, but a mistake nonetheless.
I'm going to tell you a story...
It starts several years ago, when I am quickly shopping at a thrift store looking for the perfect pair of jeans. And by quickly, I mean my daughter is running up and down the aisles, followed by my husband trying to grab her, with my son in his arms crying. I don't even have time to go to the decrepit dressing room to try anything on. And by perfect, I mean the jeans that look good, feel good, and fit just right. For me, being 5 foot 1 and not skinny as a supermodel, that's basically a miracle.
Regardless, I'm determined. I run my hands down the row of second-hand threads, giving anything promising a once-over. I find something. I hold them up, flip them over, measure them across my waist and, with no exchanges no returns, decide it's worth the gamble.
$7.99 later, I get home to finally see if my choice was a good one. I try them on.
And, it's MAGIC! I found them!
I found THE perfect pair of jeans.
If you've ever found the perfect pair of jeans for you, you know. I don't have to tell you. There are no words to describe it. It's equivalent to finding the perfect swimsuit and the perfect brand and style of underwear in the SAME day.
Fast forward to now. I have worn these jeans religiously since that fateful day. And they show it. I've worn two nice holes in them and I sadly stash them in the drawer to await some other fate when I'm ready to finally let go.
I decide that I will never, ever have another moment like that moment at the thrift store. Oh, I've tried, I have. But these jeans are the only ones for me. So then I decide that the only thing for me to do, the only right thing for me to do, is to... replace them.
I go online. I type in the RN, the brand, the style. And would you believe it - I find them AGAIN! $12. With shipping, $18. Almost brand new. The picture looks exactly like my pair of darling dungarees. I pull out my handy dandy credit card (yes, I still have a credit card!) and I buy them.
Five days later, I get them in the mail. Angels are singing! So am I. I pull them out.
And they are not at ALL the same.
They are longer, and skinnier, and darker, and just not right.
I cry inside, a little.
Then I go online again, and I find them. AGAIN! This time, I check the stitching, the back belt loop that's diagonal, the pocket size and placement. This time, I got it. These are THE ones. And, they're only $8 (with shipping, $12.50). Woohoo!
And yeah, you guessed it, they weren't the right ones either. Made in 2007. Mine were made in 2005. Whatever. Screw you, Banana Republic!
So I realize I need to do what I should have done in the first place.
I fix my trusty old pair of jeans.
I find a video on youtube (though I end up referring to this blog post). My husband donates an old pair of beyond-repair jeans to my patch. I get out the sewing machine, and I carefully fix my well-loved pair of perfect denim.
I tell you all that to remind you (and myself, too) that:
1. you can't always replace something you love.
2. you shouldn't always try to replace something you love.
3. things can be fixed.
So get out that sewing machine, or that toolbox, or that bottle of Gorilla Glue. Do yourself and the planet a favor and fix something today!
|Me and my favorite jeans, post-patch|