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The Newcomer
(by Della Bacon - January 29, 2008)
Jeans vs. Genes
When I was a young girl growing-up in a small town outside of San Francisco, both my Mom and Dad worked full time. I had four older sisters, who were assigned to keeping the house and yards in order. My assignment was to care for the horses and clean keep the barn clean. While my sisters always looked dainty, and well groomed in their cotton dresses, bobby-socks, saddle shoes, and colorful ribbons in their hair; I looked like a “Tom Boy” in Levi-Strauss jeans, knee-high-rubber-galoshes, and hair pulled back in a knot. My sisters were efficient, well-organized and always on time for appointments and school. I was late for everything, and frequently wore smudges on my nose and cheeks. My family teased me about my appearance and said I looked and acted like a “Tom Boy.”
I didn’t mind the name calling because I planned on being a cowgirl, like Roy Rogers’ lady. In the movies they rode horse-back, wore denim jeans, big leather belts, silver buckles and spurs on their boots. Whatever it was they were, that’s what I wanted to be, call me a “Tom Boy” or a cowgirl, (but don’t call me too late for dinner). As a child I dreamt of riding my horse, being in parades, roping cattle, and disappearing into the sunset with a handsome companion.
One by one my sisters left home. They gave up ironing. and cleaning for our family so their own homes, husbands and babies were properly cared for. It didn’t take long for Mom to decide “I” was to take over the household chores, and retire my dirty jeans. It was time for me to learn how to look and dress like a “Lady!” It was in my “genes,” (with a “g.”) From that day forward, and until I moved to Oroville, I didn’t own one pair of jeans. I adorned myself in hats, gloves, nylons, mini-skirts, and high heel shoes. It was in Oroville, I first noticed women of all sizes, shapes and forms wore jeans everywhere. (school, work and play). They dressed up in heel shoes, fancy jewelry and glamorous blouses. They dressed down in tank-tops. I became conscientious and obsessed with a jean-craze. Went all over town, trying find a pair that would fit me perfectly. I bugged everyone I knew to come with me to help. After a few hectic days, I began to get discouraged. It seemed to be my “GENES” (with a “g”) that caused them to look awful on my small, short fame.
I finally found my perfect fit at Corkin’s Crossing. You know, that western store on Myer’s Street, directly across from the Senior Center. I found another pair, just for short people at the The Tractor Store, on Feather River Boulevard.
My advise to you is “be-patient,” when you decide to get in step with the jean trend. Getting the perfect pair will take work, and if you are like me, you will have to go to every single store in downtown Oroville and try on a dozen or more pairs in each store. If you are lucky and find something that looks terrific, buy more than one pair. I did! And, I am now in style.
Well, that’s all for this week. If you have any questions or information to help me find my way around town, please drop me an E-Mail: dellabacon@diggernews.com.
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