On the last day of the school year, we were allowed to cut off the legs of our school jeans. It was a risky behavior because it wasn’t always that warm at the end of May in Montana. The weather can be quite variable. On the one hand, our jeans probably had holes in the knees. They had survived hard duty: submerged in mud puddles, scraped on the school yard, subjected to numerous falls from bicycles and play equipment. By that time of the year, we usually had two pairs so that the older one could be cut off and the newer one kept long to survive until rodeo weekend, when we would get a new pair. New jeans came twice a year—one pair for rodeo weekend and one pair for back to school. Until I was into my teens, I wore the same brand: Farrah. This was before Farrah jeans were popular. They weren’t worn by any music stars in England yet. We considered them to be a second brand, cheaper than Levi's. There were two clothing stores in our town. One sold Farrah. The other sold Levi's. We shopped at the store with the lowest prices. The other store got most of its business from tourists and dudes.

However, I got lucky as I approached my teens. While many of my peers shot up in size and entered the world of adult sizes, my growth was more in my upper body. My legs remained short. Farrah jeans came only in even inseam sizes. Levis came in both even and odd sizes. I could buy Levi's off the shelf that fit. My mother had to hem the Farrah jeans, or I would drag them on the floor. When I finally got a pair, I thought that the button fly of a pair of Levi's 501s was the height of adult fashion. It was the only kind I wore through college and graduate school.

Ah, the good old days! These days, I have given up on trying to purchase pants that don’t have to be altered before I can wear them. I no longer wear adult sizes in Levi's. I’m a boy's size 16 husky, which has a zipper and must be hemmed to fit. I haven’t seen Farrah jeans in any of the stores where I shop for years, and someone told me recently that they are a fashion brand selling for more than $100 a pair. I just googled them, and ones priced at over $250 came up on my computer screen. The jeans I own today came from Duluth Trading Co. I don’t like shopping for clothing online, but then I don’t like shopping for clothing in stores. A friend who is a working rancher somehow gave a pair of insulated jeans to my sister, who gave them to me. They are a great luxury for an old man, and I wear them quite a bit in the winter, even though I’ve moved to a place where it doesn’t get all that cold. I liked them enough that I ordered a pair that isn’t insulated for summer use. I haven’t cut off the legs of either pair. I don’t seem to tear through the knees of my jeans as much these days, and I don’t wear short pants. It only took one session of the dermatologist cutting out skin cancer from my calf to discourage me from wearing short pants.

I’m pretty sure that the fact that I don’t wear shorts means I am not on the cutting edge of fashion. At least I’ve noticed that other men my age often wear shorts. One of my friends wore shorts to church last week. Another wears shorts year-round. He also wears sandals with socks. I don’t own any sandals, and don’t seem to need any. My lack of Birkenstocks probably identifies me as an immigrant to this part of the world.

No worries. I have no plans to wear shorts to church. In fact, I have no intention of wearing jeans to church, though they would be considered quite acceptable in our church, where casual is the common style for worship. I’m no expert on fashion. I don’t think skinny jeans are a possibility with my body shape. I prefer my jeans belted and baggy. The only times I tuck my jeans into my boots are when I’m wearing muck boots in mud or manure, and then I forget half the time and get the bottoms of my jeans mucky.

Recently, I saw my granddaughter sort through a basket of clean clothes in search of a pair of jeans. She found two that were hers. One looked nearly brand new, and the other had holes torn in them. She ran up to her room and returned wearing the ones with holes. I thought about making a comment, but I’ve gotten the rolling eyes and “Oh, Grandpa!” from her enough to know that my fashion suggestions make no sense to her at all.

I have another reason for wearing jeans that others might deem don’t fit me properly. Most fashion jeans are made out of fabric that stretches. The fabrics are made with elastane, a product derived from petroleum. In addition to raising one’s carbon footprint, the elastane makes the jeans less durable. A pair of Duluth Trading 100% cotton jeans will outlast anything that has “comfortable fit” on the label. I know. I’ve torn through a pair of jeans the first time I wore them.

All of this is of no concern to me today. I’ll wear dress slacks to church, and I am confident that no one will notice what I am wearing. My fashion trick is to wear a tie, something that almost no one else will do. In our church, you’ll only see ties on Mother’s Day and Easter, and only worn by men my age or older. And I don’t wear those long ties, either. Trust me, a bright strip of cloth pointing to my least appealing feature is not a fashion accessory I need. I wear bow ties. Keep their attention up. Get them to look at your face. As a bonus, the knot is the same as in your shoes, meaning you don’t have to remember how to tie two knots to get dressed. I bet I could get by with jeans and a bow tie, and no one would notice I’m wearing baggy jeans. Then again, I won’t try that, so it doesn’t make sense to speculate.

I’ve reached an age where I’ve permitted myself to be set in my ways.