On Monday I went to the tailor and dropped off a pair of jeans to hem and three dresses to alter. This is one of those bothersome tasks I put off without a valid reason, at least not valid in retrospect. I’m saving time and money. This is what runs through my head when I put on super high heels so my jeans don’t drag; when I fasten a safety pin to pull together a dress cut too low; when my palm skims my shoulder to discretely pull up a sagging shoulder.
I don’t have time to drive to my tailor or wait days for him to hem or alter my clothing. I don’t want to spend additional money on clothing. If I paid full price, I’m increasing the cost per wear. If I paid sale price, I’m spending the money I saved.
I save time and money, but I look like the girl on Main street today, teetering her way to the heath food store on heels far too high to be comfortable. By chance I ended up behind her in line. The hems of her pants covered her feet like teapot cozies. She was an apparition, a woman without feet sweeping the floor with the edge of her jeans as she bagged her quinoa.
She looked sloppy, which means I look sloppy. I realized, as I watched her give her pants a final hitch before walking out the door, that dragging hems, drooping necklines, and sagging shoulders are the chipped quarter round of the fashion world. There is shabby that is intentional, and there is shabby that says you don’t feel you are worth an $8 hem.
I’m worth $8, aren’t you? Actually, I’m worth $50. That’s what I spent to hem my jeans and alter the shoulders and necklines of two dresses, and the shoulder, neckline, waist, skirt and hem of the third dress. We’ll see how they turn out later this evening.
If you are handy with a sewing machine, you can hem your own pants. This tutorial makes it look so easy, I might have to give it a try. Heaven knows those jeans weren’t the only pants in my closet that need hemming.