I can actually boil it down to one word. (Why I wasn't a political science major, you ask,. I mean, c'mon, one word?!)
Yes, one word:
Dritz.
Not sounding familiar? How about a second word to get your creative, we-can-fix-this-fucked-up-country juices flowing?
Here you go:
Toughskins.
There, now I have your attention.
Do you remember the 70s? We did not throw away our clothes, especially our jeans, when they got some measly hole in them. Oh no, we did not.
Instead we grabbed one of these:
And a piping hot iron:
And we patched them up as good as new:
Granted, we typically iorned them on the outside, so the whole dang rounded-cornered rectangular patch was showing, and so much the better if it was a beige patch on blue or green green jeans than a matching color -- badge of honor, baby. We wore our little pants until they were holy-patched highwaters and then passed them down to our cousins.
So no more of this, "I-need-new-jeans-for-school,-mom" shit, we need to
2 comments:
Amen!
Love, Mom
Amen goes double for me. I *still* patch my trousers, by the way.
And our rights are our rights. I'm ignoring the absurdity and presuming the 2020s are going to kick the 1920s' butts.
Love.
Ellie
Post a Comment