So, I was rooting around in my clothes drawer the other day trying to find the pair of day-glo spandex khaks that I've recently mislaid when I unearthed an old pair of sports shorts way down the bottom which, by the threadbare look of them, had seen many, many better days.
I did a little mental arithmetic and was shocked when I concluded that I bought these very same strides in a K-mart in America back in 1988 and archived footage of me from those days supports my claim. In the intervening years I have moved house nine times and, yet, bizarrely, those shorts have followed me everywhere I've gone. It's a long journey to travel, especially for a garment with such short legs, but the sixty-four thousand dollar question remains: what the hell are they still doing in that drawer? And, perhaps, if I lobbed an extra 50 cents onto that amount I could also ask: why the hell are they still there?
When I think about it, I suppose that, in the same way as any pair of shorts or knicks links the boots and socks on the lower end of you to the shirts and tops on your upper end, these particular ones also serve as a certain kind of link, albeit a more metaphorical one. I reckon that, by holding on to them, the sentimental part of me must be sub-consciously trying to preserve a link to the olden days - days when everything was so fab! And just as general wear-and-tear and changes in styles have now rendered the ole pair redundant as a wearable garment, all that's been going on in my own life and times since has had a similar effect, making me either ignore or forget those fine days and the younger man that once lived in them. So, while the old shorts are not in the game anymore, I keep them because, in a strange way, they remind me of the times when they were in the game. And the further away I go from those times, onwards and upwards so to speak, the more likely they are to stick around!
I did a little mental arithmetic and was shocked when I concluded that I bought these very same strides in a K-mart in America back in 1988 and archived footage of me from those days supports my claim. In the intervening years I have moved house nine times and, yet, bizarrely, those shorts have followed me everywhere I've gone. It's a long journey to travel, especially for a garment with such short legs, but the sixty-four thousand dollar question remains: what the hell are they still doing in that drawer? And, perhaps, if I lobbed an extra 50 cents onto that amount I could also ask: why the hell are they still there?
When I think about it, I suppose that, in the same way as any pair of shorts or knicks links the boots and socks on the lower end of you to the shirts and tops on your upper end, these particular ones also serve as a certain kind of link, albeit a more metaphorical one. I reckon that, by holding on to them, the sentimental part of me must be sub-consciously trying to preserve a link to the olden days - days when everything was so fab! And just as general wear-and-tear and changes in styles have now rendered the ole pair redundant as a wearable garment, all that's been going on in my own life and times since has had a similar effect, making me either ignore or forget those fine days and the younger man that once lived in them. So, while the old shorts are not in the game anymore, I keep them because, in a strange way, they remind me of the times when they were in the game. And the further away I go from those times, onwards and upwards so to speak, the more likely they are to stick around!
So if you're doing naught else, have a think about some garment that's been hanging in your wardrobe or buried deep in your drawer for aeons and ask yourself why you still keep it. Could turn out to be the greatest story you've never told! And we're all ears!
More soon ...
Meet my shorts!
Meet my shorts!
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