Is that an instruction book sewn into your Levi’s? A magazine? A phone directory? A Pynchon novel? Heck, no, that’s four pages of teeny tiny, densely packed, flyspeck type. A sans serif font so small you’d need a magnifying glass or a powerful microscope just to decipher the thing.
When did this happen? When did pants, well, all clothes for that matter, start requiring such lengthy, verbose explanations? It’s not like they’re bow ties or an elaborate, complicated dress, they don’t need a step-by-step guide.
Unless you’re new to the planet, putting on a pair of pants should be second nature. Something you could do blindfolded, with one hand tied behind your back. We don’t need to consult an owner’s manual. It’s a very simple process:
1. Put on one leg at a time
2. Zip (or button, if so equipped).
The same goes for washing instructions. Do we have to be told to ‘wash with like colors?’ Really? Ever since the days of beating laundry on rocks we’ve been separating whites from colors, it’s hard-wired into our brains. Duh. And what’s with the ‘remove promptly?’ Sheesh — nag, nag, nag.
Levi’s even goes so far as to include their phone numbers and addresses, in case you’d like to call or visit, I guess. And not just for the U.S., either, but for Mexico, Canada, and Brazil, as well. Why? Are they lonely, looking for friends?
Then they should get a Facebook page, for pete’s sake, and stop cramming tags into my clothes. I mean, I need all the room I can get, but with all the tags and labels and instructions it’s getting kind of crowded in there. The seams are packed and waistbands are standing room only. Do you remember deep breaths? I do, very fondly, too.
Shirts stay untucked. Belts remain in the drawer. All because of too many tags, not because of the cookies and ice cream sandwiches and macaroni and cheese. No, it’s the tags. See how nicely that works out?
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