Why All The Pockets?

I hate shopping. But inevitably I need new things to replace old, worn out things. Such is the tyranny of maintenance, to paraphrase Tom Robbins. Threadbare things, in this case. Clothing.

It wasn’t enough that Vans no longer made the suede high-top shoes I’d grown fond of (and nearly walked the soles through) over the last six years and that every brand carrying a similar style vandalized the damn things with their trademarks emblazoned so obscenely large across them that they should pay people advertising revenue to wear them (Adidas, I’m looking at you!). Nothing screams quality like a walking billboard you too can have the distinguished privilege of paying to wear! By the time I ended up settling on a nice pair of DC brand shoes that satisfied most of my criteria, the sales person had long since given up trying to help me make up my mind.

But I digress. Pockets! So many ridiculous pockets!

I was looking through shirts. But unless something “clever” had been printed on the front of a shirt, it had a pocket. At least one. That one breast pocket, mostly. It’s not even a good looking or useful pocket. So loose that a curt bow would liberate any contents. Too shallow to hold a pen. Too flimsy to hold a gadget. It’s such a joke that these pockets on childrens clothing — yes, even your adorable toddler has fucking pockets! — are poked fun at with cute designs. Not so cute on adults — just dumb!

So who puts anything in these dumb pockets? More importantly, what’s the deciding interest that has these damn things sewn onto otherwise perfectly good shirts? Is there a pocket lobby (apparently there is but it’s a game design company) currying favor with politicians? Is Congress in the pocket of the pocket lobby?

I ended up foregoing the shirts. Most of them look like repurposed table cloths these days anyway. It’s as if someone gazed upon the high fashion of plaid golf pants and said to themselves, “By jove, fuck all! ’70s bathroom drapery is just the thing to compliment the modern American lifestyle!” And, of course, these optical migraines had to have pockets.

I like my pockets on cargo shorts. They make sense there. I actually use those. Bought two pair. Though, even then, I took forever, overwhelmed by the variety and how every pair had at least one thing that irked me that another pair didn’t, until my father, who had gone out to the car previously, meandered back in to the store ask me, “Are you confused?”

Yes. Yes, I am.

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Escaped Hippie Gamete, Art Geek, Sci-Fantasy Nerd, Political Junkie and Code Monkey.

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