It started out innocently enough. It always does. I mentioned to my friend Jackie that my jeans needed hemming, designed seemingly for a 6’3” 107-pound fit model. She recommended we take a trip to see her tailor. At first I was fearful – hems in my neighborhood are expensive, the thread often doesn’t match, and the new hem sometimes ends up wider than the pants leg. But the more Jackie pushed – talked, I mean talked – the more it made perfect sense. So what if Pablo spoke only Spanish? Jackie was fluent. And, sure, it took 45 minutes and three trains to get there. But that’s ok – Jackie eased me in, having her husband pick up my jeans and bring them to me. It went pretty much as anyone who has ever seen an after school special in the late 70’s early 08’s would expect – a good friend offered me the product, cheap, and hand-delivered. Soon I was even getting special service as a top customer.
My new habit grew, slowly at first. Sure, the new jeans. But what about my beloved, two-year old cords? Yes, they needed to come up a bit. Both pair. And what about those jeans with the artfully torn hem? Pablo could remove the hem, shorten the leg, and reattach the artisan rips. And of course work pants, they needed to be adjusted to suit the height of my boots (always boots, remember?).
Soon I was seeing hems everywhere I looked. Men with their pant legs flapping in the air, inches above their shoes. Surely they just needed someone to introduce them to the secret of good quality hemming. Women whose pants did not reach the bottom of their heel – or worse yet – women who walked around on their hems! Oh, I had to look away in horror. These poor souls did not know what they were missing.
And then Jackie moved to Florida. Something about needing a fresh start, getting away from her old friends and their nasty habits, staying clean. But where did that leave me? Hemming alone? I don’t think so. I recruited a new partner in hemming. A family member, no less.
Had I hit rock bottom? Oh no, that was practically just the beginning . Soon I was bringing in anything in my closet, telling myself I was just heeding Clinton and Stacy’s advice (“Buy it for the biggest part of you and find a great tailor.”) Sundresses needed to be taken up in the straps. Skirts must be nipped in at the waist. Dresses must be flattened out across the back. And you know that gap between your jeans waist and top of your bottom? I had that surgically removed.
I even brought in hand-me-down True Religion jeans that had already been hemmed so Pablo could re-do them (the thread was the wrong color! The stitching wasn’t perfectly straight! The hem did that jut-out thing!). I know you are thinking, “Well, those are expensive jeans.” OK - but does it explain my trips down there with Target dresses and flannel shirts?
To you this blog entry may seem like a step toward recovery, but there is no doubt in my mind that my next pickup trip to Pablo (cords, two kirts, camo pants), will include another drop off (two dresses, Target skirt). But I tell myself it’s OK, I am a functional hemaholic, managing both a demanding career and a household. For now.
No comments:
Post a Comment