I expect all of us (or at any rate, those of us who are lucky enough to spend time being wistful about absurd shit like this) can remember a particular pair of pants which were THE ONE. I should hesitate to write “the one pair to rule them all”, but I won’t. Because perfect pants call for tired-out Lord Of The Rings references, and you only live once.
Anyway, moving on unedited, my personal perfect pants were these: a pair of Acne jeans in a style called “Hug”, in a wash called – I can’t believe I remember this – “So What” (you might presently be asking yourself, “so what?” In which case, gentle reader, this is really not the website for you).
So these jeans, I assure you, were fucking perfect. They were the sort of crisp (no stretch) close-loose cut that only works if they fit you with total precision. Total precision! Which, for jeans? Impossible. But these did fit like that, in my case. Then eventually the knees gave out and ripped, first one then the other, so I cut them up into shorts. INTO SHORTS. LIKE A FOOL.
And I have thought about these pants so often over the past four years, it must prove what my doctor tells me every time he takes my blood pressure, which is that I don’t have enough stress in my life (though I promise you, doctor, that cannot be the issue). But here is where all my plans for this post fall apart, because when I was searching the internet just for a picture of these specific jeans in this specific wash, I actually found them – one last pair of them, though they are at least five years old, in exactly my size and inseam – on a Danish website, hugely reduced in price, practically tossed out in the street for anyone to pick up and take home. So with limited help from Google translate, and a very dubious idea of my ever actually receiving them, I ventured an order.
I refuse to change the title, however, because this could all be a giant let-down. They may yet be impossible. Though wanting things that I CAN have is distinctly un-Hchommish, and I hate to disappoint people. But at least there is an Impossible Jacket waiting in the wings – impossible for-serious, this time – which will set everything right.
And in a last-minute attempt to add some actual content to this post, I’ll mention that I’ve been doing my usual late-winter clearing-out of the inbox. Which pretty much just involves closing my eyes an deleting everything, rather than facing any individual emails. None of which are scary in the least, but somehow they combine to form something that pins me down with heavy, heavy sick-making guilt. And I can’t remember any of what’s in there, I just have a vague notion that it’s all important, and I’ve failed everyone forever. SEE, DOCTOR, MY BLOODPRESSURE MEANS NOTHING. So my point is, if you have emailed me and failed to ever get a response, please write me again if you can stand to do it.
8 responses to “Impossible Pants 2”
I’ll let you know if my impossible shoes ever materialize.
Oh gosh I had the perfect coat once. I had been visualising this impossible coat I wanted for a couple of months on the run up to winter, then one day I was walking through the shopping centre to get to class and it was just there. In a shop. For sale.
It was a deeply odd moment, seeing something from your mind’s eye made real and hanging on a peg waiting for you. I wore the hell out of that coat for two years, then left it in a locker at a ski centre. I still google the brand sometimes to see if another one turns up on ebay. Nothing else will ever be quite so perfect.
Usually I am on the hunt for the perfect coat/hat/boots/scarf/whathaveyou during the wintertimes, but this year is so particularly miserable that I’ve just been piling whatever I have on hand onto my body. Maybe when the ice melts I’ll set my sights on something?
In the meantime I’ll put all my clothing juju into your impossible pants arriving safe and sound!
My perfect pair of “pants” were a pair of board-shorts. They had that rare combination of being wearable on land, under water, and while snowboarding (thank you California spring skiing), they rendered underwear obsolete, their cleaning required a quick jump in any nearby body of water, they had enough pockets to hold all the necessary items to go for a hike or a night out,
You have no idea how happy I am that you started posting again. Just sayin’.
I can always count on coming to hchom.com to read something interesting and cool :)
What happened to the pants? Did you get them?
Warkot UAZ-a ucichł, Istotny usługi dźwigowe.
brezentowy grań zniknął zbytnio Przeczytaj pełny Przewodnik (www.fourcorners.ie) zakrętem przecinki.
wyciągnął bryłkę cameli również zapalił.
Przysiadł na zwalonej kłodzie.
Owee była dziwna rozmowa. Nie 1, potykali się wcześniej kilkakrotnie,
Rościsławski nie krył własnych powiązań z przemytnikami.
Owe płeć brzydka był w tej okolicy prawidłem,
każdy na grasnicy wychodzili z „prostego rozentuzjazmowania, że założy się z poprzednio utrzymywać się.