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I never understand why men and women cling onto their jeans as if they are safety blankets, packing denim should be a NO NO! You try folding it nicely, or rolling it into your suitcase, you get to the other end, and it looks like a dogs breakfast. It is so wrinkled and somehow has taken on an odour that repels skunks.

Jeans, I was 5 and I begged my Mother for a pair of big girl jeans like my sister. All I wanted was a waistband and not an elastic band. I clung onto this vision and tried describing them to my parents. Christmas came, and there was one soft package under the Christmas tree, just for me. I prayed that they were going to be big girl jeans. Christmas morning came, I opened them up, tears welled up. They were elastic banded jeans with strawberry’s on the pockets. I tried to conceal my disappointment, and, like so many clothes my Mother bought, I put them at the bottom of the drawer. It wasn’t until I was 10 that I finally got my first pair of big girl jeans (yes, it actually took that long, to my parents credit, we were actually living in Mexico, and the jeans that I wanted did not exist). From that day forward I did hug my jeans, and I never travelled without them. It was a fateful trip to Greece for our belated honeymoon, that forever changed my mind on Jeans. My husband and I decided to backpack and island hop through Greece. We were excited, packed our small backpacks, and decided to wear jeans and hiking boots onto the air plane. We landed in Rhodes, grabbed our backpacks and hopped onto the bus, we were excited newlyweds! The bus trip kept on going, we asked the driver when we should get off, he told us in broken English where to go. So got off, and started to walk…It was 35 degrees out…we kept on walking, after an hour we were arguing, I started to cry. It took us 2 and half hours to find our way. We got to the hotel room, sweaty, barely able to move, great way to start a honeymoon. The first thing I did, attempt to take off my jeans – well, it had been so hot, we walked for so long with our backpacks that our jeans had adhered themselves to our legs. There is nothing sexy about taking off adhered sweaty jeans, or the fact that the seam had emblazoned a pattern down my legs. After a lot of swearing, I managed to have a well deserved shower. The jeans were hung up, and they didn’t see the light of day again.

Jeans are impossible to wash and dry on the go. The odours they pick up are horrendous, and they just don’t travel well. If you think you can travel, and go to a fun bar, and some how get away with wearing your jeans again, think again – it just ain’t gonna happen, that bar smell will be trapped into the jeans like an angry caged animal until you return home.