I don’t know if you remember your very first pair of jeans, but mine was pretty vivid.
It all started when I was 5, I wanted to look just like my sister. She was much older and wearing awesome Levi’s that my Father purchased on a business trip. We were living in a country that, well, didn’t have much selection outside of hand-woven shirts and linen pants.
I begged for jeans, I even prayed for them. I had the perfect pair in my head (obviously, I was also dreaming of looking slightly older…), I wanted a zipper and a button, just like my sister had.
I put it down on my Santa list, and prayed that Santa would bring them on Christmas morning.
That Christmas, I was sure that I would get them, I had been good, so Santa was going to deliver. I ripped through all of my presents, to find one folded up pair of denim pants, they had a big strawberry on the back pocket and they had an elastic waist. I was devastated, and gutted that my dream pair of jeans had not come to fruition.
I was not a fan of those denim pants, I put them in the bottom of my dresser. I didn’t want to be upset at Santa, maybe Mrs. Clause didn’t understand what I wanted.
Years later, my Mother told me how she had called my Aunt and Grandmother to find a pair of jeans to send to us, and that she drove all over the city in search of these jeans. She couldn’t find any in my size. My grandmother and Aunt couldn’t find any in my size, so they did the next best thing. Make them.
Now I wish I still had those jeans. I wish at 5 I could have appreciated the effort!