
If there were anything that I can’t live without these days it would be my Levis Button Fly 501 jeans. One pair lasts me a year, sometimes two, before they are retired to a special corner of my closet, and the new pair comes to town. It wasn’t always like this. When I was a small boy I refused to wear jeans. I thought that they put me somewhere between trailer trash and the hippies that lived down the street. The other thing was that when I was in my early teens, my parents didn’t have a whole lot of money to buy me clothes. Fortunately I had an uncle who was the same size as I was. He worked in an office and wore shiny polyester pants and striped shirts with cufflinks. I lived in a neighborhood that was predominately
Italian and the uniform of choice for most of my friends was a Ban-Lon knit shirt and Bannister shoes, the kind that were shiny patent leather with pointed toes. It wasn’t until I was in
high school that bell-bottom jeans, tie-dye T-shirts, and desert
boots came into vogue. It seemed that everyone in the neighborhood went casual in a fortnight. All of a sudden everyone was wearing white Levi’s and Boon Dockers.