Edward Green Newmarket
Raw denim, weird, takes a certain sort of man.
The picking of the jeans.
The struggle of first few weeks with limited mobility.
The non washing of jeans for indeterminate period of time.
The discussions with other like minded jean weirdos.
The initial careful wash.
The prayers said whilst air drying.
All in the hope that your fades are ‘sick’.
That your jeans are a testament to the highly masculine lifestyle you lead, a throwback to generations past who worked with their hands away from the tapping of a keyboard.
Then you live another 6 months, crotch blows, buy a new pair, start again with slight rotation.
Eventually the jeans are retired, living a life happy in the retired jeans pile, odd return to active service but a life of quiet contemplation.
This behaviour of mine has added floors to the various houses of certain denim brand owners. And I’m thankful, I enjoy it.
I picked up a pair that had been repaired this morning, which got me thinking, about my boots.
Edward Green Newmarket in that perfect almond 82 last.
Recently resoled and worn to death. Unlike the jeans they should never need retiring, like the jeans they subtly tell you my life story.
Connolly Hide care, EG Polish and buffed and buffed again. But, I can see muddy fields, mayfair streets, pub carpets, slight right rear driving mark, that time I spilled hot ash from the fire, scratch from climbing a fence when dog went walkabout.
A decent overview of a frankly ludicrous life.
Also, the thing they don’t tell you at Edward Green, which they ought, in big bold letters, is how comfortable they are, straight out of the box comfortable, better than walking on air comfortable. Hey, this might be a sign of impending old age, but that is design genius.