an ode to a legend

 

Haircuts, breakups, first bar experience, first kisses, beach trips and bon fires have slowly but surely unraveled my denim cutoffs beyond wearable length. I have had these trusty favorites since 2008, and sadly it is time that they must retire from my closet rotation. I figured it would be easiest to part in the autumn months- I could tell myself it was  Mother Nature that blew my precious pants from my grasp with her mighty October winds.
 Indeed, they have reached a length that is far too close to that of a Christina Aguilera in her "Dirrty" phase. They probably really are dirty. I can count the number of times I washed them in our four years of friendship; fearing the repercussions of the washing mashing's wrath on the threads as well as the luck instilled in the stitching.  I for one am always up for daring fashion choices, but I just can not justify these faithful shredded Levis any longer. (Even with tights, I tried.)

I have enjoyed my time spent in these seemingly insignificant pair of pants: sitting on porch swings after a long goodbye, dancing under full summer moons and in a bar for the first time, tiptoeing out the backdoor (sorry, Mom), swimming in salt water  and celebrating national championships. May you rest in peace, sweet Levi 501's; in the bottom of the shorts drawer tucked neatly into my cabinet converted closet.