Working class

Its a Saturday night in West Palm Beach and the ladies in Lycra and large hairdos are out on the prowl. I push past the tanned blondes and overmadeup brunettes and men in flashy button-ups and greasy hair. They are far outnumbered by seniors in sneakers and stretch pants, I heart Florida tees and bifocals. I am overwhemed by the costuming choices.
Perhaps that is why I wander through the doors of the bland and dependable Gap. I am searching for a jacket to shield me during my bike rides in the chilly Sunshine State (liar!) winter.

(I got a bike! A purple rusting beauty of a two wheeler I bought from Jack the Bikeman as a brothel a few blocks down caught on fire. "It should have happened sooner," he said. "The owner's doing nothing for this neighborhood." Jack handed me a massive lock with his castbound hand and sent me on my way, smiling ear to ear with my new wheels. In sprawling Florida, walking and public transport get old. Quickly. Especially when walking past brothels and disintegrating commercial lots late a night.)

Folded on an industrial chic shelf lay a pair of khakis. "Pre-paint splattered for that artistic feeling- no two are alike!"

I laugh aloud and ponder how we have become so far removed from manual labor. My closet is full of ripped and torn and paint splattered clothes. I've worked on boats for years and despite my most earnest efforts to avoid dripping or splattering or soaking various articles of clothing in bleach or epoxy or bottom paint, most of my clothes have reminders of my less than neat working habits. Ripped knees, distressed thigh panels? Give me the jeans for a few months and I will distress my own jeans thanks very much.

So the fact that GAP is intentionally staining clothes to make the desk bound consumer feel like the rest of us do after a day in the boatyard or garden or cleaning the house is, well, disconcerting when I start to think about all the other tasks that we have abandoned. Like plumbing. do you really need to call the plumber if the shower is leaking? Do these computer savvy hands no longer have the ability to pick up a tool and change out a gasket or tighten hardware?

My khakis currently have grease and bleach stains.
Fashion logic leads me to believe that I may be mistaken for a stockbroker instead of a stewardess who is able to shop at GAP.