Note No. 61
April 2, 2010
I had a horrible dream the other night.
I was trying to wear both pairs of black pants at the same event, thus employing covert wardrobe changes in the bathroom and Noises Off-type entry and exit antics, so that I could wear the nearly perfect pair in one scene and the second pair in the next. It was so stressful, I woke up with my neck pillow on the other side of the bed and the knee pillow behind me, all the various elements twisted around and inside the sheets.
I had completely undone my favorite sleeping position. Scattered it all over the place.
It’s pretty much how I feel in real life, as I try to hang onto two pairs of black pants at the same time. I may not be trying to wear them to the same event but they are certainly both in my closet (no, not THAT closet) at the same time. And well, as you know, I am against having more than one pair at a time, so I am kind of tied in a knot about this business of cutting the tags off one of them.
I know. I’m like a month late on the return policy. The thing is, I have pretty much cut the tags off a pair already but after going through the early stages of talking to the seller about returning the other pair, I can already tell it’s not going to go so well.
I suppose this would be a good time to mention a small detail that I forgot to add before: the nearly perfect pair was bought on the Internet. I mean, okay, I saw them once in the display window at a friend’s boutique but then I went back and actually found them again on a Web site.
Yup. One of THOSE purchases.
I should’ve known, of course. I mean, I don’t even shop on the Internet that much anyhow, unless it’s to buy running shoes and books to be sent to my parents’ house in the States, so that someone can then mule the things down to me. Otherwise, it’s too complicated, as I live in a country where They know what is shipped to me. Furthermore, if it’s clothes we’re talking about, which we are, I find shopping for things to fit me hard enough as it is when I am there. Imagine imagining being there. So, for me to VIRTUALLY find a pair that I wanted to keep was pretty spectacular.
As you can probably surmise then, it was just a virtual success. And now, it’s a virtual problem.
This is probably also a good time to mention that although the second pair and the nearly perfect pair are indeed in my closet at the same time, one of my closets is very far away—and that’s where the nearly perfect black pants reside now, waiting for me to make a trip back to collect them. I don’t know when that will be, though—if ever. And seeing as I am a believer in both Black Pants Monogamy AND Equal Black Pants Opportunity, I feel like it is my consumer duty to return the distant pair of nearly perfect black pants to the free market. Which is what I am trying to do. Which is what the merchant does not seem open to accepting.
I don’t know if you have ever tried to return something bought on the Internet but it’s another reason I try to avoid online shopping. It’s just not that easy. You have to box up the purchase, and arrange for pick-up, and then there’s order numbers and bank transfers and it’s just so much harder than taking the unwanted item to the counter at the mall and presenting your receipt to the cashier. There. Done. Cash back, in hand. Or store credit. Or whatever. Just take them back. Please.
It’s not like I am totally sure about the second pair, either. Remember how I said that it had some shining quality that I could not put my finger on but that I was pretty sure that if I kept wearing the pants, that this lasting trait would reveal itself? Well, I am still waiting for it to become crystal clear but I feel like I get closer to knowing every day and if I’m right, it has to do with providing great support. Because really, regardless of the size of the tush in question, what girl doesn’t want a little extra somethin’-somethin’ holding things up back there?
So, I have been wearing the second pair a lot—so much, in fact, that I am starting to wonder why I never liked black pants in the first place. They’re fantastic! And seeing as it’s certainly too late to return this second pair, because they clearly have my wear marks on them, I went ahead and cut the tags.
And yes, I still have some reservations about the quality control reports on this second pair. There are still lots of unhappy customers around the world; I know. But I have started to see this evidence the same way that we are meant to do so with people: take them as you find them. That’s not to say you should totally ignore the reviews; just don’t let them make your decision for you.
It doesn’t help that I have discovered that the nearly perfect pair is a little more high maintenance than I had realized. See, I need to be able to occasionally forget what I am wearing. There are times when my phones are ringing and there are e-mails to reply to and guests are in the office, wanting to check in or ask me something, and then I might have to run outside to do a room check or see how Juan’s latest painting job is going, so if every time I stand up and these stupid pants have to be pulled down and straightened and rearranged just to get out from behind the desk, well, it’s going to annoy me. A lot. To the point that I won’t wear them anymore.
I’m sorry. They’re not stupid pants. I just call things stupid when I am frustrated with them. And the second black pants allow me moments where the only reason I know I am wearing them is because I do not feel naked. They may not be the most stylish and they may not be the most expensive and they may not be the most durable—I might very well have to replace them in a year.
But I don’t want to think about that right now. I am just happy that for the moment, they fit, and they are here with me, and they go well with at least a few of my favorite shirts.
Problem is, I already know for sure that there will be no room for them in my suitcase next month.