Pockets! They Make the World Go Round
Or is it the pants? They make the pants go round.
While we’re on the topic of unsung heroes, I would like to address an oft-neglected universal truth about the way women shop. Let me start with a brief quiz.
You’re in a dressing room, right? You’re trying on a dress, or a skirt, or a tube top — yes, a tube top — and thinking to yourself, Self, this is cool. This is great. I am this girl. And yet, something is not right. This could depend on several isolated variables. Maybe it’s the price impeding on your imminent camaraderie. Or the way the hemline is sewn in. Or perhaps there are sleeves that you don’t quite care for. But then, and this is a big then, you reach for the middle of the dress, or the top of the skirt, or the bottom of the tube top and like a thirsty camel who’s just uncovered a water well, you meet salvation. The selling point — the pockets. Do you:
A) Do the pocket dance
B) Forget the things that were holding you back and haul ass to the cash register to buy the item in question
C) Put your hands in the pockets, pose in front of the mirror, love what you see but still refrain from making the purchase
If you answered any of the above, what you’ll notice is that in each scenario, whether or not the transaction met an end point, the pockets were a pleasant surprise — the jelly inside a Jewish powdered donut. The treasure beneath a Marino ice cup. Dare I call them full of sunshine?
They brought you closer to proprietorship.
Unless, of course, you fall into a small pocket (LOL!) that encompasses option D which is not listed above. This option suggests that you don’t care at all in which case, you are exempt from answering the following question:
Why do we like pockets so much? WHY?
Yes, yes, sure, sure, storage is important. Nothing is quite as nice as dipping into your pocket to swiftly pull out your Metro Card or credit card or nickel or dimes, ruling out the wrath of rummaging through the black hole that is your handbag to find that you’ve missed that train, left the credit card at home, and can’t find your nickels or dimes. Ugh!
But there’s something more.
Maybe it’s about hailing a taxi cab. Maybe it’s not. Interjections welcome.