Monday, November 19, 2018

Mending the shredded ones



These pants are a paradox:  normally, I am all about comfort and the fit on these jeans is pretty much the worst.  They're too baggy in the waist, there's not enough room in the seat, and the strings across the artful knee rips that were there when I got them kept leaving painful indentations in my kneecaps.  But they're the perfect wash and they don't have any spandex, and they always make me feel great, even though they very quickly became a mess.  Here's why:


These shredded up knee holes are fake.  What possible incident could have caused that asymmetrical fraying?  What kind of normal activity would wear in that pattern?  None, that's what.  I have so many opinions about this and most of them are not positive, but when these jeans were made, they were shredded up on purpose in what somebody thought were places where real wear would happen and then somebody, some aggravated parent of a sullen teenager, perhaps, who just wanted to get the hell out of the mall, bought them.  Not on the cheap, either; I've had teenagers, I know how much these cost.  And then somebody probably tried to sit down while wearing them, or dared to try to bend her legs, and then she swiftly sent them to the thrift store.  Along came me into the thrift store, and I tried them on.  Bam!  So much style!  So much Rock and Roll!  I preened, flexed my biceps, pouted into the mirror.  Bought them (on the cheap, because thrift store) came home and washed them, and then, wearing them, tried to sit down.  First of all, these shreds are not located on my knees.  I know I'm getting to be an old bag and a lot of things are further south than they used to be, but I'm pretty sure my knees haven't fallen that far.  Also, even if my old knees managed, through much adjusting, to land in the vicinity of the shreds, when I bent my leg, they carved into my flesh like a serrated knife through a soft tomato.  And then the strings gave up and broke, hanging down like dirty mop strings and it just made me feel like a slob.

But there they were in my closet, and even with the fake shredded up knee holes and saggy waist and unfortunate air-conditioning effect, I still really kind of liked them, and as soon as I saw this, I knew what to do.


With help and inspiration from this book, I decided to start small and tackled the intentionally shredded front pockets first, before moving on to the more onerous holes in the knees.  I cut patches from scrap denim and pinned them at the inside, then used a crewel needle and three strands of contrasting embroidery floss to make long [messy] stitches all around the hole.  Then I cut away the fraying fabric and stitched the edges down, giving about 65% of a hoot about tidiness.  I mean, I kind of wanted it to be mostly neat, but I didn't get out my ruler and draw stitching lines or anything.





It took most of the day, but it was very satisfying.  As you know, hand stitching is one of my most favorite things.


It's far from perfect, but it honestly looks great to me.  These pants were far from perfect even on the day they were brand-new, and I'd rather earn my ripped knees honestly, by wearing something well-fitting until it wears out, and then mending it again, but since I'm too impatient to wait for my pants to rip on their own, this sped-up version of the process makes me happy, and it saved these jeans from the dumpster.




Still Rock and Roll.  Also, I can bend my legs now.  Success!