Awkwardness and Leather: Worn In a Really Cool Way

So, story time. On one Friday evening in a jazz club, I had the curious experience of overhearing the (incredibly juicy) jabbering of a group of middle-aged men. To the tune of Blue Blue Christmas, they were treading on the evergreen topic of passive-aggressively bashing “them youngsters” - quite in the holiday spirit. One particularly self-assured man confidently drawled out a sentence that stuck in my mind a bit.

Back in his day, you see, “the vintage was real.” “We wanted a worn out leather jacket? We inherited one and put it on our backs day after day, and year after year.” “Want cool ripped jeans? Go get a pair of Levi’s and let them follow you through 5 years of auto repair.” He took an overly enthusiastic sip of his (I kid you not, I swear,) Old Fashioned and went on. “Kids these days go into Forever 21 with 20 bucks and come out with fake leather pretending to have gone through 10 years of yard work, rock concerts, and sex on rumble seats.”

I put some notes into my phone and, I became a tad worried about being too enthusiastic of an “eavesdropping young one.” I was about to walk away and join some Bitcoin babbling, but the man went on:

“These young girls going out in their “leather” skirts. They see us milling around them and think we’re all creeps. It’s not my fault her cheap shit smells like a new car I wish I had!”

It was at this point that Masha bit her lip as hard as she could to not burst out laughing and went off with the flooring realization that these guys were better at throwing shade than she would ever be.

You see, this all made me think. You see, I like leather jackets. And I’m fortunate enough to own a few, which are among my most treasured items. Granted, they’re in no way decades-old or vintage, but they’re each a few years old and show signs of love, wear, and a few bad decisions. A surprising number of my jeans have ripped by means of various adventuring, but I’m in no way above admitting that I’ve bought distressed denim. My favourite jean jacket is worn in a really cool way. It’s simply fact that I bought it that way.

Whatever negative connotation faux-distressed clothing may have, I know that I certainly have times when I act like a pre-ripped jean jacket. Try to act like I’m older than I am, or like I’ve been around the block a few times. Meeting successful professionals? Walking into expensive hotels? Getting into a new nightclub? Calling to make a doctor’s appointment? (We might as well be honest.) Trust me, the starched collar of my button down, that ID I pull out of my wallet, or my suddenly shaky voice saying “Well Visit?” aren’t the only things trying to convince you I’m a member of the Grown Up Adult species. Walking into that tall glass office building, I’ll momentarily regret religiously using anti-aging cream. Although I’m sure the rips on my thigh give away my youth more than Retinol ever will.

We all know brand new leather clothing can look a little, well, awkward. Stiff, awfully shiny, maybe even a little boxy. It protrudes a bit from the body, sticking out in front of my body like a shield or plank of sorts, making my chest even flatter than it already is. It’s noticeable, sure. Some even venture to say it’s dorky, “uncool.” And yet, any well-loved bomber started that way at some point. There’s something to the look, really. One knows the piece still has the excitement of novelty. You know how much it will be loved, increasingly more so as it gets worn out from service. There’s a reason everyone’s happy for newlyweds or for a kid going off on his first day at a “Real Job,” right?

I don’t eat much cheese, and this girl prefers scotch to wine, but they say some things improve with age. Of course, I someday want my clothes to fit like a glove, like a tougher second-skin showing stylish scars. More importantly, I myself hope to someday get a little tougher, wiser:  I’ve got to improve in SOME way from the rambling idiot I sometimes am today, right? I want to be “worn in a really cool way,” and there are some days when I smear on my under-eye cream, and yet I swear I can’t wait. On the subject of cooking, we rave about the wonder of well-seasoned cast-iron skillets. The ones we’ve used so many times, and yet we know they’ll always faithfully deliver the perfect egg or stir fry or 2-AM pancakes. Worn out, and yet improved by service. Things improve with age, I know I sure hope to, but I’d venture to say that that’s no reason to bash the yet unscarred. After all, get too proud of grape-juice’s age and it turns to vinegar - too sour to tolerate.

I wouldn’t doubt I’ve had a day when I’d walk down the street feeling like the Real Cool Kid, listening to the Arctic Monkeys while wearing naturally-ripped jeans, slightly worn shoes and an unevenly smooth jacket. And then, I’ll check my phone for the right address, walk up to that big glass building, and instantly feel like a five year old whose only trip around the block has been on a tricycle. And maybe that’s okay. We all want to seem grown and tough and experienced, and yet, I don’t want to be like that fake-vintage, fake-leather bomber for $12.99 from Forever 21. For a while, I’ll sometimes be stuck being a little stiff. Awkward. Creasing in the wrong places and very very unsure if I’m doing all this right. And I guess that’s okay. I certainly can’t expect my friends and those I care about to all be Mature and Classy and Professional, and thank heavens for that. When worn in, leather will move and mold with your body. I’m sure my world will move and mold alongside me, while hopefully retaining a capacity for stupid nonsense that I know I’ll always have. Maybe it’s a good reminder to me to not be afraid to befriend those who have stood the test of time. We like the idea of worn-in, well-seasoned things: leather, denim, cast-iron. Tough material showing it can take a beating. Some day, if I’m lucky, I might be “Worn in a Really Cool Way,” but until then, I guess I’ll have to wear my unwrinkled novelty in the coolest way I can.