I must admit the brutal truth – I just cannot recall the last time I wore any other fabric than the denim.
Yes, it has always been the Levis, Wranglers, Lee and what have you from time immemorial. The exception, of course, has been baby time and school days.
Then it was unimportant as one had no say in the matter. Also I mean, one didn’t have to look so cool or anything.
I was just an ordinary baby, with a face like squashed aubergine with drool all over the dial.
The clothes, encompassing all the colours of the rainbow and their variations, would make others cringe but I was unaware.
School was like the Army, just uniform. I remember the not so fitting blue shorts with a white shirt one size smaller and a tie whose knot did not resemble the perfect ‘samosa’. Uniforms were not cool, no way. Saddled with oily hair, each strand in place, shoes shining like a mirror, it was a spectacle not meant for human consumption.
Things got better when college life began. Dressing up couldn’t be taken lightly as one had to look like the eternal ‘Cat’ and impress girls.
However, by then the influence of Western culture and the sight of all those rock stars in jeans caught the imagination.
After much opposition from the family, who directly linked jeans to sex, drugs and rock n roll, I collected enough to buy a pair of Levis.
These were expensive, mind you. Big sacrifices like cutting coffee and begging for cigarettes finally helped me garner the cash for those jeans. It had to be the faded ones. Blue was too common and almost conforming to norms of dressing.
So there I was, faded jeans, denim shirt, two buttons open to reflect masculinity through a hairy chest. One must not forget the cigarette, stuck on the left lip and drooping like Clint Eastwood.
I had arrived. Yes, I was a Cool Cat – Man, O Man.
Sadly, I must admit that jeans habit and stuck to me over the years. I got so used to it that I could only think jeans, even as formals. A few Hollywood films gave me an idea. Stick a formal jacket over the jeans and voila, you had the almost formal man.
Many awkward situations were avoided. Important events were handled with finesse, jeans and all.
Fortunately, being a journalist has its advantages. Jeans are alright at work. And in some situations, add the long kurta and wear glasses, and lo and behold, you are more journalist than journalist.
Not to forget the filterless Charminar cigarettes and a copy of Das Kapital by Karl Marx suitably spilling out, of course.
Now grey and seasoned, I often wonder how I survived a lifetime in jeans. My wardrobe is bereft of other fabric in trouser wear. I have often contemplated how life would be without jeans and shuddered often.
Just the other day, a young little thing asked me, “Uncle, when do you wash your jeans?”
“Come on sweetheart, I am still young at heart. Don’t uncle me.”
And about washing those jeans, well……
#All views expressed in this column are those of the author.
## Pune365 discourages the use of tobacco and consumption of alcohol. Alcohol and Tobacco is injurious to your health.
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