I Love Jeans, Shorts, Spiky Heels and Flip Flops--So There!

Katherine today.

It's chilly and rainy and not even 60 degrees outside and it's almost noon.  It's summer though.  Today is the first day I can remember when my fate is my own.  When I woke up, I didn't begin with a mental catalogue of the things that had to get done.

On most days, the items on my list are usually good and make me happy.  Cooking, knitting class, seeing family, meeting friends, planting posies--I love all these things.  They have to get done though.   Today I woke up and the to-do things could be done tomorrow.  Life will go on if I don't change the sheets or clean our bathroom or fold the last load of laundry.  I could do those things, but I don't have to do them.  To quote Willa, "Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy."  It's a good mantra to cultivate.

So here I am with choice number three on today's list.  I've knitted two rows and one had beads and I'm new at beads so that was a goodly amount of time.  Two rows before 6:00 AM--Ahhh.  Then the gym.  And now--I'm writing away instead of thinking about chores.

I was running around the track at the gym (pleased as punch that I was running a bit better) and decided I wanted to write about a Sunday column in The Denver Post about social "rules" that needed enforcing.  I broke the only four I read.  All were about appropriate clothing.  I decided I would postpone all bathroom work and spout off on the fashion rules this social guru insisted I broke. I broke them all.  To quote Willa, "Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy."

The first rule was about jeans.  Jeans are bad.  No one should wear them.  If you are in the woods and under 40, maybe.  If you were foolish enough to spend more than $58 on them--well, I stopped reading at that point.

This is sacred territory for me.  Saying anything negative about jeans is like saying you don't like skin.  I think a huge problem with old people is that they don't wear jeans.  What's up with that?  Where is the magic line that says this is the moment you stop wearing jeans?  Good-bye True Religion and Hello Dockers.  No thank you.

Whoever wrote the column clearly didn't understand other things about jeans.  They work with cowboy boots.  That's important for a girl like me.  I have some impressive boots (the baby blue ostrich with lime green goatskin Luchese's top the list) and unless you're really and truly line-dancing, you don't wear boots without jeans unless they have spiky heels.

Jeans force you to think about your weight.  What can I say?  I have jeans for my various weights, but I'm not buying a bigger pair than anything I have now.  It's as good a weight loss system as any of the others I've tried.

Look around.  People wear jeans.  They will always wear jeans.  So silly.

The second rule was about shorts.  To be avoided at all costs.    Absolutely not after 40.  Again.   Excuse me.  This is also silly.  Who gets to decide this stuff?  I didn't even check the reasoning.  People love shorts or they don't.

My mother wore shorts with pantyhose underneath--"Horrible, horrible, oh most horrible."  It was the pantyhose that made her shorts approach awful.  I never understood it at all.  It was the wosrt when we traveled.  She played tennis and walked in Yosemite that way and she looked at the geysers in Yellowstone that way.  I think if you're going to wear shorts, you should just wear shorts.  If you must make a rule about wearing shorts, I think a no pantyhose rule would be okay with me.

My father never wore shorts at all.  I never ever saw my father's legs until he was dying.  He wore his suits to work and khakis on the weekend when he went fishing in the mountains.  I only saw his forearms when he retired and took up golf.  It was okay he hid them all those years, you know. It's kind of amazing I love shorts so much given my background.  Maybe I'm just being a passive aggressive kid.

Like I said, people like shorts or they don't.  I'm okay with anybody wearing them unless they wear pantyhose underneath--I just get a Barney Fife feeling all over when that happens.  For me, there are perfect shorts for almost any function.  I have shorts for running, hiking, kayaking, dining on a patio with pretty plants, hanging out, playing tennis, going to a cool early evening cocktail party (it could happen), watching grandkids, gardening,  and typing.  Doesn't everybody?  To quote Willa, "Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy."

I skimmed through footwear too.  I didn't read much because it was clear I was a scofflaw in the shoe department through and through.  Spiky heels followed the jeans and the shorts pattern for rules.  We should all avoid them, but if they must be worn, make sure only young folks don them.  I don't wear spiky heels often, but I have two amazing pair and I wear them to Mizuna or at Jenny Lake sometimes or if there's a fancy-dancy wedding.  When I pull them out and put them on, I remember I have really nice legs for an old lady.

The last fashion taboo was flip flops.  For anyone at anytime.  Talk about making a rule folks won't follow.  Try that in Kauai.

 A world without flip flops would be like a world without jeans.  Stupid.  People were meant to be barefoot.  I'm sure of it.  Flip flops are the closest thing to barefoot that will still get you into a fine restaurant.  Like shorts, there are flip flops for any occasion.

I love Chacos for daily life.  They are made in Colorado.  They are sturdy and last forever and cost a bundle for what is essentially a flip flop.  They feel right on my feet.  The arch is right.  The width of the straps is good.  I like my black ones best.  There's a part of life that is a quest for the perfect daily flip flop.  If you don't have a favorite flip flop, part of me thinks something is wrong with you.

I love Tori Burch flip flops for dress up.  All of mine came from the Nordstrom Rack last year.  I somehow discovered when the weekly shipment Tori Burch shoes would arrive and my work schedule met up with the flip flop delivery schedule.  I like these because the soles of the shoes are incredibly thin and the straps are thin and I feel barefoot in a downtown kind of way.  I wouldn't go for long walks in these, but I feel good going to Bones.

That's all I read.  It's hard to read something that attacks the very core of your being.  No jeans, no shorts, no spiky heels, no flip flops.  I'm not giving these up--not yet.  To quote Willa, "Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy."