Black Pant Hunt

Today I was in Target. The grand superstore for American teachers and college students attempting to pass as classy.

I needed some black pants.

Please don’t ask me why, we both know there is no logical reason for black pants. It would be far too long a blog post for that sort of discussion.

So I needed some black pants. Let’s keep it there.

Not high-rise-black-skinny-curvy-girl-classics, nor faded-washed-low-dip-scratched-denim. Not even white-girl-high-ponytail-short-legs. I just wanted some black pants. I wanted some black pants that could read my mind and shape-shift into whatever shape I intended to declare myself for any given day.

Any given day. 

I did not want to compromise with these pants. I did not want to purchase them pre-determined. Predestination is a controversial topic. As a manner of principle, I refuse to wear controversial pants.

I didn’t have high expectations as I sauntered through the Target aisles, I was just looking for some shape-shifting low-maintenance low-conversation pants which happened to be noir in color.

Also I had $6.50 in quarters.

I walked past rows and rows of pound-sign-selfie tees, bulbous green army pants with an argumentative amount of pockets, stretchy tanks depicting amorphous felines in spectacles.

Finally I found them. Black pants section.

Well, friends. Despite my reasonable expectations, I could not find a pair of black pants. Despite having the best of intentions, the black pants of which I needed did not appear to me.

I wonder if finding the perfect black pant situation is similar to the sword in the stone. Or Cinderella’s slipper.  If perhaps the black pants find you, call to you and not the other way around.

I think that it also might help to have more than $6.50 in quarters.

I miss the days when you could buy a dog and spam and jet fuel in a combo three-pack for less than $6.50. Now there’s no chance you can take your German Shepard, Henrie, for a ride in your plane before food poisoning him with spam. That is, without shelling over a couple hundos.

Well, folks, just thought I would alert you to the state of our economy these days. And the black pant industry. O, the Tyranny of it all!

 

Peace and Blessings,

Josie

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About Josie

I run slowly through forests, eat spoonfuls of Jif's Natural creamy peanut butter, and perpetually wear a fuzzy Patagonia sweater I found for $1.50 at a charity shop in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I deal in trees, breeze, and threes. I'm not interested in being normal. I'm not looking to pass GO. I'm not looking for anything other than breathable freedom.