"lucky" me

For the first time in my life I have something I never thought I'd own:

A pair of Lucky Brand Jeans.

Now, one would have to stroll through my high school years to fully appreciate this. You see, in high school, owning a pair of Luckys was the IT in IT-ness. This was in the 90s-women-still-wearing-body-suits era (thank Jesus-Allah-Bhudda that's over with--though I did see some body suit tube tops earlier), so if you were female, it would be obvious whether what you wore were Luckys or not. The boys all had their pants down to their knees so you could clearly see what they wore. There was also the ubiquitous Lucky boxers, Lucky T-shirts, sweatshirts--anything that could handle a logo on it had the brand name tatooed on it. And, on the inside of the fly, there's this little patch that says, "Lucky You."

I did not own a pair of Lucky jeans in high school. I remember fondling the denim more than once at the Brass Buckle, an uber-hip, at least to me, clothing store at Towne (yes, there was some need to spell town with an e) East Mall in Wichita. But they weren't cheap--at least for me--and my mother would only buy one pair of jeans at a time, and she wasn't going to fork out 60+ bucks for a single pair. Which meant, of course, that I was forced to use my own spending money (earned by my blood-sweat-tears at babysitting or McDonald's or, later on, Alco) to purchase more, since God forbid anyone repeat the wearing of jeans more than twice a week. (Honestly, I don't know how this was communicated to me. I just knew.) So, when it came to buying jeans, I went for the cheap stuff. I remember ordering J. Crew jeans a lot--back then, you could buy J. Crew jeans for 20 odd dollars. Now the cheapest, newest pairs are 70! But there was no logo to sport (back then, J. Crew made fun of brands that had the logos--now it has fallen), and J. Crew wasn't cool then.

I half-pretended not to care. And, for the most part, I didn't. I was against the system. Grunge was somewhat popular in USD 410, so I went that way, wearing oversized flannels and plastic barrets. But there was always that little part of me that whispered that my popularity would increase just a bit higher if I owned a set of those jeans.

Now that I'm grown up, supposedly, I can laugh at those feelings. But I know those things mattered to me at the time. And who doesn't remember something that meant so much back in the day?

And now that I'm all grown up I have a little little more money to spend, and I'll admit, I have a small fetish for jeans because of all that history. But, I usually stick to thrift stores because of this. My jeans were all falling apart on me at the same time a week or so ago, so I had a mission of finding jeans to fill the gap. I even bought a brand-spanking-new pair at Old Navy! So, the other day, I happened upon one of my favorite thrift stores, and decided to go in and see what I could see. And there, in the very back, was a pair of practically new Lucky jeans. Now, I haven't seen a whole lot of Lucky jeans on the east coast. In fact, the only person I ever saw wearing them was this chick from Texas. Maybe it's more a midwestern thing. Who knows? I'll admit, they're a little bit big, but I have high hopes for this wayfaring stranger. With a little hot water and a session in the dryer, maybe it will be perfect.

full-circle, of sorts

Tom and I walked in the Gay Pride march yesterday. It was great. The Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center had a DJ on a flatbed truck; well-endowed folk swiveled gracefully; firefighters and drag queens danced down the street. Tom and I made it briefly on local news. When we came to 23rd Street and Broadway, Tom commented on the fact that we had done a full-circle, of sorts. Watching the Gay Pride march at 23rd Street was our first official activity in New York. We had arrived the day before with four large suitcases, two backpacks and two smaller suitcases. It was muggy and hot, we had to go twice to Penn Station to retrieve all our luggage, and we were completely exhausted and bewildered. The next day, some of our fellow housemates were going to this parade I'd only heard of once or twice. Now I was in the march.

I found this picture on the BBC.

wheat harvest 2006

my dirty love

We went to Montreal for a mini-vacation last week. It was nice to see a different city with a totally different vibe from New York. The tourist attractions weren't great. There's a church near the top of what folks in Montreal call the Plateau, with at least a hundred steps to it. We were expecting something holy--we were confronted with this cold mausoleum. The guide book said the basilica was "refreshing" after all the iconography of other places, but the way I look at it, the icons are what make these churches beautiful and intimate. We did find a small chapel below the basilica that was filled with votives and piles of canes and crutches--apparently there's an idea that if one climbs up the steps on the knees, this person will be healed, and the canes and crutches are proof. We also found a church near the harbor that was dedicated to sailors. Little ships hung from the ceiling, and the walls were filled with sea-faring pictures. There was something about these little places that caught my heart. People were praying in them, calling to God silently or vocally. The tinge of votive candles and incense completed the scene.

I really enjoyed Montreal. I loved the way the apartments had little terraces on them, and how people hung out there to read or smoke or talk. But I feel like Montreal is a place to live rather than visit. You won't really know that city till you've wandered it for a bit.

At any rate, my second love (the first is, of course, obvious) will always be New York. New York is like that ex-girlfriend (New York must be female--there's no way she's male) you can't shake. She's dirty, smells bad, is freezing and sweltering for months at a time, takes all your money and crowds you into a dwelling a quarter of the size of a normal place for more than half your paycheck. Yet she has pieces of beauty that always bring you back. Gorgeous architecture next to homely towers, singers in the subway, readers in pompous bookstores, theater in every hole in the wall, clothes and furniture on the street for the taking, people watching galore...what more can I say?