Just got back with my wife Jane after her venture in to buying a pair of jeans for herself. What a morning, like climbing Everest.
Going from shop to shop with her, carrying a mountain of jeans in to each of the fitting rooms, I thought, instead of just standing there looking overwhelmed by some great philosophical question on life, let me really get in to this and try and understand exactly what was going on. So I did. I listened carefully to what was said, I looked painstakingly at what was shown, and I heard the frustration behind the words. Guess what; I actually saw the problem. That’s right, I actually got it. Three things.
Firstly, the variety is mindboggling, with bootleg, straight, and ankle fit, then regular skinny and wide, low rise and regular rise in various permutations, and that’s not even speaking about colour yet. Secondly, in our country too many pairs of jeans are made in China where sizes compared with those in Africa are about as different as miles are from kilometres. Thirdly, and here I need to tread carefully, Jane looks pretty good for her age, but not all women are endowed with the thin shapely legs of a Twiggy, damnit, now I’m showing my age.
Anyway, we finally found a pair pair of jeans invoking much celebration and I went home a tired, but much wiser man, and Jane, a happy and satisfied woman. 🙂