Tag Archives: blue jeans

The Value of Friendship


In Charlotte’s Web, E.B. White spoke for Charlotte when he wrote:

“You have been my friend.  That in itself is a tremendous thing.” 

I agree.

We’re constantly confronted by a host of troubling news stories, and as Americans, we should speak out against what’s wrong and stand up for what’s right.

But health researchers consistently advise us to put disturbing news stories aside when we can. They encourage us to focus instead on things that make us happy. These include staying in touch with our friends.  As geriatrician and author Dr. Kerry Burnight has noted, strong social connections can help people live longer in good health.  Burnight adds that we should even be “proactive” about maintaining and strengthening these bonds.

Consciously or not, I’ve chosen to maintain and strengthen the bonds of friendship.  I continue to make new friendships.  But I also choose to maintain and enhance my longstanding friendships.

I’m still in touch with friends I first encountered during my childhood.  I especially treasure a black-and-white photo my father took one summer day when I was seven.  My next-door neighbor Helene and I are holding hands outside our apartment building. We were best friends, living next door to each other until we were twelve, when my family moved away.

Astoundingly, Helene and I are still friends and talk now and then on the phone.  We have very little in common these days, other than growing older, but we still chat about our childhood memories and how lucky we are to have a lasting friendship for so many years.

I keep in touch with still others who go back almost as long. Childhood friends who shared our public elementary school, some in high school.  Friends from college and law school and a bunch of jobs, neighbors who are now other people’s neighbors, and even a former boss or two.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I’m thinking about a friend who created a remarkable Valentine’s Day for me when we were in 6th grade.

I’ve written about this friend before. Today, when many of my friends have become seriously ill, his story reminds me how precious friendships really are.

My friend (I’ll call him Alan R.) grew up with me on the Far North Side of Chicago.  We were in a pack of friends who attended the nearby elementary school.  This was back when all of us walked to school, walked home for lunch, and walked back to school for the afternoon.

On the very coldest days, Daddy would drive me to school if he could.  Those days were different in another way, too.  Girl students, who otherwise were required to wear skirts or dresses to school, were granted a dispensation because of the sub-freezing weather.  We were allowed to wear something that would cover our legs.

I usually opted for blue jeans.  But wearing them was verboten during class time.  They could be worn only going to and from school.  So I would wear my jeans under a skirt, then remove the jeans and stash them in my locker.  I’m still angry that, in that benighted era, it was unthinkable for a female child to wear pants in school.  Thankfully, that rigid prohibition has largely disappeared.

I had a handsome “boyfriend” in 5th grade. (Although we thought of each other as “boyfriend” and “girlfriend,” we simply had a pre-teen crush on each other.)  My best friend Helene had a crush on my boyfriend, but I was the lucky girl who got the misshapen plastic pin he made when he went off to camp that summer.

By the fall, Alan R. had replaced him.

Alan was never one of the best-looking boys in our class.  He was tall for his age and somewhat awkward, and he tended to be rather stocky.  But he had a pleasant face and a pleasant way about him, and he became my 6th grade “boyfriend.”

In October, he invited a bunch of us to a Halloween party at his house.  Helene and I decided to don similar outfits—tight t-shirt tops and skinny black skirts.  We were trying to look like French “apache dancers.”  I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I suspect that Helene’s savvy mother inspired us to choose that costume.  However it came about, we knew we looked terrific in our very cool garb.  We may have even added a beret to top it off.

Alan played the gracious host, and when the party wound down, he led us outside, and all of us paraded through the neighborhood, knocking on doors and yelling “trick or treat.”  It was a truly memorable Halloween.

I don’t clearly recall the next few months.  The days must have been filled with other parties, school events, and family outings.  But I definitely have a vivid memory of Valentine’s Day the following February.

When my classmates and I exchanged valentines, I discovered that Alan had given me two.  Not one.  Two.  And they weren’t the ordinary valentines you gave your friends.  These were store-bought pricier versions.  One was sentimental, flowery, and very sweet.  The other one was funny and made me laugh.

What inspired Alan to show his affection for me that way?  We were fond of each other, but I don’t remember choosing to give him a special valentine.

Looking back, I can’t help thinking about his decision to give me those two valentines.  Did he choose them by himself?  Did he have enough money in his pocket to pay for them?

As a mother, I also can’t help wondering what role his mother may have played.  Did she accompany him to the card store on Devon Avenue where we all bought our valentines?  Was she standing next to him when he chose his valentines, offering her advice?  Did she ever learn of this extravagance on his part?

I like to think that Alan came up with the idea and executed it all by himself.  He saved his money and walked alone to the store with the firm intention to buy a valentine for me.  When he saw the display in front of him, he couldn’t decide whether to show his affection with a flowery card or try to make me laugh with a funny one.

So he bought one of each and, head held high, gave me both of them.  I hope I responded in a way that pleased him.  I simply can’t remember.  But I know that his delightful gesture has remained with me ever since.

Sadly, those valentines disappeared when my mother one day scoured our house and tossed everything she considered inconsequential.  But they weren’t inconsequential to me.  I still remember the thrill of receiving not one but two valentines from Alan, my 6th-grade beau.

Everything changed in 7th grade.  A new school, new boyfriends, and new issues at home when my father’s health grew worrisome.  As always, life moved on.

I recently learned that Alan R. died a few years ago.  He and I had drifted apart long before, but his fondness for me during 6th grade never faded from my memory.

Did Alan’s flattering attentions give me the confidence to deal with some of the rocky times that lay ahead?  Teenage years can be tough.  Mine often were.  But his two-valentine tribute stayed with me forever.

Thanks, dear Alan, for being a warm and caring young person, even at the age of 12.  Although the rest of our lives have had their rough patches, the valentines you gave me in 6th grade have never been forgotten.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “True friends will leave footprints in your heart.”  Alan certainly left his footprints in mine.

Pockets! revisited

In 2018, I wrote a post titled “Pockets!”  [https://susanjustwrites.com/2018/01/] 

I began with these words: “Women’s clothes should all have pockets!”

My focus: How important it was for women to have clothes with roomy pockets.  Why?  For a fundamental reason: Freedom.  The freedom men have, to carry possessions close to their bodies, allowing them to reach for essentials like keys without fumbling through a clumsy handbag.

Although I’ve often wanted to return to this focus, other critical topics have demanded my attention.  What has inspired me to return to this focus now?

In June, I came across a book review in The New York Times that made me aware of a leading women’s fashion designer I had never heard of:  Claire McCardell.  The review noted that, in this biography, Claire McCardell: The Designer Who Set Women Free, author Elizabeth Dickinson noted McCardell’s penchant for pockets

I quickly got a copy of this new book.  I learned that McCardell, a prominent designer in the 1930s, ‘40s, and early ‘50s, consistently added pockets to her designs of women’s clothes.  She was an ingenious and daring designer in other respects as well:  inventing mix-and-match separates, introducing hoodies, denim, and more.  She advocated wearing ballet flats instead of high heels, she banned confining corsets, and she insisted on pockets, even though male designers usually stood in her way.  As early as 1933, in her first real job, she wanted every dress and skirt to include pockets.  (Pants for women were still on the drawing board—a topic for another day.)

This book notes that pockets had been around since the 1600s.  Originally, in men’s breeches.  But men opposed pockets for women, largely because they feared that women might conceal dangerous or threatening items:  “The more a woman could stash on her person, the more freedom she had to act.”

When McCardell was growing up, “suffragists and dress reformers fought for pocket parity.”  In 1915, author and social reformer Charlotte Perkins Gilman noted that American designers “ignored the practical needs of women” and kept pockets out of women’s clothes.  McCardell took a stand against this history.  “She wanted pockets and believed that other women did, too.”  But she had to get her design ideas past the men who dominated the American fashion industry.  It became a constant struggle.  But as one journalist noted: “Because Claire’s basic principle of design is that the wearer should feel comfortable, she puts pockets into almost everything.

In the 1940s, Diana Vreeland, the influential fashion editor at Harper’s Bazaar, shared Claire’s “love of pockets,” condemning bulky handbags: “Cigarettes, lipstick, powder, a small comb, money—it should all go into pockets,” she wrote.  “Real pockets, like a man has, for goodness’ sake.”  Vreeland added, ”Of course, you’d [need] much bigger pockets, and they’d be rather chic.”

According to author Dickinson, Claire has “never been forgotten by the world’s fashion designers….” Designer Tory Burch in 2022 created a spring collection inspired by her designs, and in 2023 the Costume Design Institute at the Met mounted an exhibit featuring women designers and celebrated Claire.  Dickinson concludes: “We are the inheritors of her brave risks, her experiments, and her singular focus.”

But what has happened to her focus on pockets?

Here’s what I wrote in 2018, revised just a little.  (I’ll follow it with a brief update.)

Women’s clothes should all have pockets. 

I admit it.  I’m a pocket-freak. When I shop for new pants, I don’t bother buying new pants, no matter how appealing, if they don’t have pockets.  Why?

Because when I formerly bought pants that didn’t have pockets, I discovered over time that I never wore them. They languished forever in a shameful pile of unworn clothes.

It became clear that I liked the benefits of wearing pants with pockets.  Why then would I buy new pants without pockets when those I already had were languishing unworn?

Result:  I simply don’t buy no-pocket pants anymore

Most jeans have pockets, often multiple pockets, and I like wearing them for that reason, among others.  [“They’re My Blue Jeans, and I’ll Wear Them If I Want To,” https://susanjustwrites.com/category/blue-jeans/.%5D Most jackets, but not all, have pockets.  Why not?  They all need pockets.  How useful is a jacket if it doesn’t have even one pocket to stash your stuff?

Dresses and skirts should also have pockets.  Maybe an occasional event, like a fancy gala, requires a form-fitting dress that doesn’t have pockets.  But how many women actually go to galas like that?  Looking back over my lifetime of clothes-wearing, I can think of very few occasions when I had to wear a no-pocket dress.  As for skirts, I lump them in the same category as pants.  Unless you feel compelled for some bizarre reason to wear a skin-tight pencil skirt, what good is a skirt without pockets?

Cardigan sweaters, like jackets, should also have pockets.  So should robes.  Pajamas. Even nightgowns.  I relish being able to stick a facial tissue into the pocket of a nightgown.  You never know when you’re going to sneeze, right?

By the way, I view fake pockets as an abomination.  Why do designers think it’s a good idea to put a fake pocket on their designs?  Sewing what looks like a pocket but isn’t a real pocket adds insult to injury.  Either put a real pocket there, or forget the whole thing.  Fake pockets?  Boo!

Despite the longing for pockets by women like me, it can be challenging to find women’s clothes with pockets.  Why?

Several women writers have speculated about this, usually blaming sexist attitudes leading to no-pocket clothing for women.  Those who’ve traced the evolution of pockets throughout history discovered that neither men nor women wore clothing with pockets until the 17th century.  Pockets in menswear began appearing in the late 1600s.  But women?  To carry anything, they were forced to wrap a sack with a string worn around their waists and tuck the sack under their petticoats.

These sacks eventually evolved into small purses called reticules that women would carry in their hands.  But reticules were so small that they limited what women could carry.  As the twentieth century loomed, women rebelled.  According to London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, dress patterns started to include instructions for sewing pockets into skirts.  And when women began wearing pants, they finally had pockets.

But things soon switched back to no-pocket pants.  The fashion industry insisted on “slimming” designs for women, while men’s clothes still had scads of pockets.  The result has been the rise of bigger and bigger handbags (interestingly, handbags are often called “pocketbooks” on the East Coast).

Enormous handbags create a tremendous burden for women.  Their size and weight can literally weigh a woman down, impeding her ability to move through her busy life the way men can.  I’ve eschewed bulky handbags, often wearing a backpack instead.  Unfortunately, backpacks are not always appropriate attire.

Today (in 2018), many women are demanding pockets.  Some have advocated pockets with the specific goal of enabling women to carry their iPhones or other cell phones that way.  I’m a pocket-freak, but according to recent scientific research, cell phones emit dangerous radiation, and this kind of radiation exposure is a major risk to your health.  Some experts in the field have therefore advised against keeping a cell phone adjacent to your body.  So, advocating pockets for that reason may not be a good idea.  [Please see my update below.]

We need pockets in our clothes for a much more important and fundamental reason:  Freedom.

Pockets give women the kind of freedom men have:  The freedom to carry possessions close to their bodies, allowing them to reach for essentials like keys without fumbling through a clumsy handbag.

I propose a boycott on no-pocket clothes.  If enough women boycott no-pocket pants, for example, designers and manufacturers will have to pay attention.  Their new clothing lines will undoubtedly include more pockets.

I hereby pledge not to purchase any clothes without pockets.

Will you join me?

Update in August 2025:

I still endorse almost everything I wrote in 2018.  But I have a few new thoughts:

First, instead of keeping my previously-purchased no-pocket pants in a shameful pile, I’ve donated almost all of them to charity. My hope is that shoppers will find some use for these pants, possibly using the fabric alone to create something wearable.

Next, although I’m still concerned about the radiation risk posed by cell phones, my thinking evolved during the pandemic. Instead of carrying a handbag/purse, I carry all my valuables on my person. [Please see susanjustwrites.com/2021/08/06/outsmarting-the-bad-guys/ ]  This includes my cell phone, which I now put in a roomy pants pocket whenever I leave home.  I’ve reduced the radiation risk by invariably removing my phone from my pocket as soon as I return home, where I place it in a prominent place (and try to remember where it is). A backpack can sometimes be useful, but I still prefer pockets.

Third, I haven’t been doing much shopping for new clothes in the past few years, but one item I occasionally seek out is new black pants or jeans.  After all, pants do wear out.  And I’ve been delighted to discover that many more pants are now available with pockets!  Is it possible that my advocacy of a boycott on no-pocket pants has had some effect?  I’d like to think so, but I doubt it.  I simply think that the fashion industry has finally come to acknowledge that women want pants with pockets, and the bigger the pockets the better.  By purchasing more and more pants with pockets, women themselves are now influencing what’s for sale.

One more thing:  When I recently read a book describing the efforts of many Italians to resist the fascist takeover of their country in the 1930s and ‘40s, I learned that Italian women often sewed large pockets into their voluminous skirts.  They filled those pockets with items like guns and explosives that were passed on and used to resist the fascists ruling their country.  These brave women helped the resistance overcome the fascists and return Italy to democracy.  Brava!!  Their history is inspiring.  But I truly hope that, here in the United States, we can preserve our democracy without having to resort to using pockets in this very scary way.

They’re my blue jeans, and I’ll wear them if I want to

What?  I’m supposed to give up wearing jeans because I’m over 52?

A few years ago, I came across a preposterous study conducted by CollectPlus, a UK parcel-delivery service, which asked 2,000 Brits this question:  When should people stop wearing jeans?  Answer:  Age 53.

This answer struck me as absurd.  Even the marketing director at CollectPlus was baffled by the results.  She told the Daily Mail, “Denim is such a universal material and, with so many different styles available, it’s a timeless look that people of all ages can pull off.”

The newspaper didn’t disclose relevant details like the age of the survey’s participants.  Who were these people?  How old were they?  Where did they live?  To make any sense out of this study, we needed details like these. 

What did the participants reveal?  Almost a quarter of them admitted they hadn’t yet found their perfect pair, another 29 percent had given up the quest for that perfect pair, and six percent admitted that they’ve been reduced to tears in the search for it.

Once they found their ideal jeans, however, they’ve held on to them, and 33 percent said they’d wear them practically anywhere, including the theater or a dinner party.

Do these devoted jeans-wearers really expect to give up their beloved jeans when they turn 53?  I doubt it.

Although my own go-to pants are skinny black pants with roomy pockets, my wardrobe also includes some skinny jeans.  I have happy memories of sporting a pair when I visited Yosemite National Park, where they were clearly the best choice.  They protected me from insect bites, spilled food and drink, and potentially hazardous falls onto jagged rocks and other obstacles.  When I hiked alongside spectacular Yosemite Falls, its watery mist hit my clothes, but my jeans’ cotton fabric dried quickly in the mountain air.  And I had pockets galore in which to stash any small items I needed en route. 

In short, they were perfect.  Why would I ever want to abandon them?

I wouldn’t.  But recent events have compelled me to question whether blue jeans are still the great choice they used to be.

The arrival of the pandemic has changed many jeans-wearers’ thinking, especially whether to purchase new ones.  Just look at the statistics.  In July 2020, The Washington Post reported that the pandemic was taking “a real toll” on jeans sales.  Levi’s had posted a 62 percent drop in second-quarter revenue and announced plans to cut 15 percent of its corporate workforce.  Why?  Because people were choosing comfort over the trendy jeans they formerly favored.

Things started to shift back as the pandemic began to loosen its grip.  But reports of sales haven’t been consistent.  Fox Business reported in April 2021 that demand for denim was back. It noted that sales of “the old reliable clothing staple” were on the rise, with consumers buying relaxed-fitting styles rather than the tight-fitting favorites of the past. It added that Levi’s was projecting a potential increase of about 25 percent for the first half of 2021, rebounding from a 13 percent decline.

One month later, in May 2021, a publication called Modern Retail also noted that denim brands like Levi’s were gearing up for the return of sales.  According to this source, skinny jeans continued to claim the largest market share at 34 percent of all jeans sales.  But The Washington Post reported in July 2021 that denim sales were still falling and people were still turning to “less structured” clothing for both work and recreation.  

Two other sources, CNBC and Stylecaster, have issued their own reports. According to CNBC on July 9, Levi’s second-quarter earnings crushed estimates, raising its 2021 forecast.  Stylecaster on July 19 determined that skinny jeans were out, but new/old styles like baggy jeans, low-rise jeans, flares, and even patterned jeans, were in.

Conclusion?  The jeans-scene is pretty foggy.  Trends aren’t completely clear.  Just as the pandemic has surged in some areas and declined in others, the jeans-scene is having its own ups and downs.  Some jeans-wearers will probably return to denim, with possible changes in the styles they choose, while others may abandon buying any new jeans, even though they hold on to the ones they already own.

Here in San Francisco, we treasure the legacy of blue jeans, thanks to Levi Strauss and the jeans empire he and his partner created in 1871.  The Levis Strauss Company is still a big presence in the city, and Levi’s descendants are among the Bay Area’s most prominent philanthropists and civic leaders.  The Levi’s company notably maintains a vast collection of historic jeans in its San Francisco archives.

Right now, San Francisco’s Contemporary Jewish Museum is sponsoring an exhibit focused on Levi Strauss and his legacy.  Its website notes that in 1873, “at the end of the California Gold Rush, Levi Strauss & Co., named for a Bavarian Jewish dry goods merchant in San Francisco, obtained a U.S. patent with tailor Jacob Davis on the process of putting metal rivets in men’s denim work pants to increase their durability.  It was the birth of the blue jean.” 

The CJM calls ‘Levi Strauss: A History of American Style,’ “an original exhibition showcasing the life of Levi Strauss, the invention of the blue jean, and their iconic place in the history of American style.”  The exhibit includes over 250 items from Levi’s archives as well as items worn by notables like Albert Einstein.  It celebrates how “the democratic blue jean became a cultural staple and a blank canvas for the rising international youth culture.”

“Youth” is the key word here.  Young people will almost certainly stay loyal to jeans.  Let’s remember that jeans are gender-neutral, racially and ethnically neutral, and still central to the wardrobe of young people, including those in Generation Z.  

Regardless of their age, I predict that jeans-devotees will keep wearing jeans. The result?  Despite the appeal of loose-fitting pants, jeans will probably maintain their place in the world’s collective wardrobe. 

Will I give up my skinny jeans?  Nope.  And I don’t think many other over-50s will abandon theirs.  Together, we’ll defiantly sing (with apologies to Lesley Gore):  “They’re my blue jeans, and I’ll wear them if I want to!” 

{This post previously appeared in a different version on Susan Just Writes. It has been revised for July 2021.]