Just looking at it on a hanger, you might not realize exactly what you’re looking at. So I will tell you. This is the coolest jeans jacket ever. If I had a dollar for every time a stranger asked me where I got it over the years, I’d be rich. The thing I love about it is that it’s a feminine-looking jeans jacket, not a miniature man’s jacket. Another great thing about it is that it nicely covers your derriere, which can be a plus in the looks and the warmth departments. This jacket has class and personality. If it had a voice, it would be saying, “you wish!”
When I think of all the places and the situations this jacket has shared with me, it’s easy to understand how attached I am to it. It’s been with me longer than any one man…or woman for that matter! It has been washed so many times that it’s finally starting to show its age. I mean, this jacket was bought at a store that doesn’t even exist anymore! Last year I noticed that it was beginning to look a little shabby, especially at a couple of the seams. That made me feel so sad. My sweet friend, Iris, who happens to be a great seamstress, did something on one of her good sewing machines to make sure those seams didn’t fray anymore, which sort of holds off the inevitable a little longer. I wonder if a day will ever come when I’ll finally stop wearing it. Right now, I refer to it as “vintage.” Kinda like me.
And then there are my tables. There are two end tables, two parsons tables and a six-sided one. When my ex-husband and I first got married, we were so poor that we had bargain basement furniture in our first apartment. Back then they had these stores (maybe they still do) where you could go in and buy an entire room of furniture, including lamps, for like $100. We also had odds and ends that were hand-me-downs from relatives who had gotten better stuff. That was the best we could do.
We had a couple we socialized with who were older and more established than we were. The husband was a history teacher like mine, but the wife had a great paying job working in the front office of the Kansas City Royals. Whenever we went over to their house, we were very impressed by the quality of their furnishings. Their home was like a showcase. Well, it turns out that the wife’s brother was an interior decorator who had gotten all their furniture for them at a place that sold exclusively to decorators. This came as no surprise to us because the stuff was really classy.
What did come as a surprise was that the wife got us a private pass to this decorator store (as if we could afford anything!) Nonetheless, my ex-husband said “we can at least go and look.” So we did. The place was as awe-inspiring as we expected it to be, with a bunch of snooty salespeople gliding around, pretending not to see us. We must have looked like Jethro and Ellie Mae Clampett, wandering through, eyes as big as saucers. But then Max saw these tables – rustic, yet still quality and very, very heavy. The cost was way out of our league. But, the more we looked at them and imagined them as ours, the more we wanted them. We finally figured out a way to swing it, using money he made by painting in the summers and on the weekends. And I must admit they brought a touch of class to every place we lived.
The funny thing is, when we got divorced and were taking turns splitting things up, my ex-husband chose the pool table, leaving me the tables by default. And so I’ve hauled these heavy, sturdy tables with me every time I’ve moved (which has been quite a few times!) A couple of them have scratches and maybe a nick here and there but they are still strong and look fine. There have been times when I’ve thought of replacing them just for a change and because they’re so old, but I couldn’t justify getting rid of something so substantial that was still good.
It’s nice to know that some things in this world were made to last. Maybe I’ve been pondering longevity because I have a birthday coming up next week and I always get philosophical as I take another step down that hill. Like the jacket, some of my seams are fraying just a little bit. And like the tables, I have my share of nicks and scars.
But, also, like both of them – I’m still here.