Jecca Zane
Sandra 1Levi's Stress
August 15th 2007 02:23
Disaster struck in the form of disintegration of my jeans at a recent gathering.
In an effort to receive due compensation for my loss I have drafted and sent the following letter to Levi Strauss’s headquarters in Melbourne.
I will keep a regular account of any further communications from Levi Strauss.
Enjoy
Levi Strauss & Co. Headquarters Australia
Levi Strauss Pty. Ltd
Level 11, 11 Queens Road
Melbourne, VIC 3004
Australia
To the good people at Levi Strauss & Co.:
I am writing in concern of a pair of model 538 straight leg “waist overalls” I recently purchased from a retailer by the name of Dangerfield in Melbourne Australia.
I purchased them because I wanted to be one of the kids Jack Kerouac went “On the Road” with. I wanted to be a part of what Jacob Davis and Levi Strauss created on that day in the May 1873. I wanted a pair of Levis.
And when I had them, quite proud was I of my blue jeans. They were a very good fit and I thought I looked as dashing as a young man could in a well fitted garment.
But it was not long until tears started to appear in the fabric of my excitement.
I had been taking very good care of my new jeans, avoiding their exposure to sunlight in case their trademark blue would fade and always washing them inside out as directed. Never did I expect what would become the fate of my jeans.
My pair of jeans was of the zipper fly variety. The initial assault would fall in the region of this very fly. The primary point of fastening, the button situated at the top of the fly which featuring the words “Levi Strauss & Co.”, became removed from its place of fastening, by no other force than that of placing one leg at a time into my pair of jeans and going about my daily tasks.
How could this happen to my jeans? How could the jeans Mr. Davis had created rivet by rivet for men of labour befall this fate?
A feeling of dread and a quickening of breath became my natural state. How would I ever fasten this button? How would I ever face another day without my Levis?
I pondered this matter for what seems now like days. My health deteriorated and my condition was not improved by the discovery that my receipt containing information therein of my jeans purchased from Dangerfield had become lost to the sands of time.
The solution came from the direction of a dear friend. She proposed the introduction of thread by way of needle around the reinserted button to reinforce it. Could I do this? Could I lift a needle fixed with thread to my pair of Levi’s? I thought it an abomination. An attack on creation. But my needs finally outweighed my convictions and so I searched my humble abode for cotton of the blue variety. I chanced upon a light blue thread and went about my ungodly business.
I winced as the hand that gripped the needle encircled the base of the button with foreign thread. (The button having been reinserted into its native position.)
With the wicked task done I was reunited with my “riveted waist overalls” and a marked improvement at once could be observed in my demeanor. I was once again of the sect that coupled so much of it’s identity with your denim pants.
Life did go on; no other assailment would afflict my jeans for near on a month.
The next attack on my 538s proved to be their last. I was in attendance of a gathering at a house in the suburb of Melbourne called Saint Kilda. The purpose of the event was a celebration of a new addition to the occupancy list of the house; a new house mate for my friend Mark. During which all in attendance were merry and jovial.
The horror in question happened at some time before midnight. I was in conversation with another of my friend, Sharon, about her ability to perform the acrobatic skill known as “the splits”, whereby each leg is extended as far away from the opposite leg as can be done, bringing the base of one’s torso as close to the ground as possible.
She executed the said skill and when asked if I were capable of doing the same I replied in the affirmative.
I was mid way through the requested manoeuvre when disaster struck. An agonizing sound could be heard and a six inch laceration appeared in the inner thigh area of my left leg. No! How could this be? My Levis have failed me again!
I can admit now in the rational benefit of hindsight that I was temporarily insane. My sanity like my jeans had been torn. An animal inside me reached down into the wound and tore the last remaining fibres down to the base of my leg.
I was left with the realisation of what had occurred. A force such as the extension of ones leg from the other had caused my jeans to disintegrate.
But these aren’t just any other pair of jeans, these are Levi’s. The jeans emblazoned with the two horse leather patch claiming that even they, powerful beasts, couldn’t pull them apart. But this had proven itself to be but a cruel lie. For if the movement of one man could injure this garment, then horses could positively obliterate them.
All I ask is this? Do I buy another pair of Levi’s jeans or will I forever harbour the fear that a mere extension of limb will cause them to suffer irreparable damage.
I appeal to you to restore my faith in a company co founded by a man who acted with “fairness and integrity in his dealings with his…customers”
If you could see it fit to grant me a pair of jeans to replace my now deceased pair I would wear with pride and tell all I could that Levi’s are the only jeans for me.
Yours truly,
Michael Waters
(32 Waist, 32 leg)
The strength to endure the assault of horses? I think not
In an effort to receive due compensation for my loss I have drafted and sent the following letter to Levi Strauss’s headquarters in Melbourne.
I will keep a regular account of any further communications from Levi Strauss.
Enjoy
Levi Strauss & Co. Headquarters Australia
Levi Strauss Pty. Ltd
Level 11, 11 Queens Road
Melbourne, VIC 3004
Australia
To the good people at Levi Strauss & Co.:
I am writing in concern of a pair of model 538 straight leg “waist overalls” I recently purchased from a retailer by the name of Dangerfield in Melbourne Australia.
I purchased them because I wanted to be one of the kids Jack Kerouac went “On the Road” with. I wanted to be a part of what Jacob Davis and Levi Strauss created on that day in the May 1873. I wanted a pair of Levis.
And when I had them, quite proud was I of my blue jeans. They were a very good fit and I thought I looked as dashing as a young man could in a well fitted garment.
But it was not long until tears started to appear in the fabric of my excitement.
I had been taking very good care of my new jeans, avoiding their exposure to sunlight in case their trademark blue would fade and always washing them inside out as directed. Never did I expect what would become the fate of my jeans.
My pair of jeans was of the zipper fly variety. The initial assault would fall in the region of this very fly. The primary point of fastening, the button situated at the top of the fly which featuring the words “Levi Strauss & Co.”, became removed from its place of fastening, by no other force than that of placing one leg at a time into my pair of jeans and going about my daily tasks.
How could this happen to my jeans? How could the jeans Mr. Davis had created rivet by rivet for men of labour befall this fate?
A feeling of dread and a quickening of breath became my natural state. How would I ever fasten this button? How would I ever face another day without my Levis?
I pondered this matter for what seems now like days. My health deteriorated and my condition was not improved by the discovery that my receipt containing information therein of my jeans purchased from Dangerfield had become lost to the sands of time.
The solution came from the direction of a dear friend. She proposed the introduction of thread by way of needle around the reinserted button to reinforce it. Could I do this? Could I lift a needle fixed with thread to my pair of Levi’s? I thought it an abomination. An attack on creation. But my needs finally outweighed my convictions and so I searched my humble abode for cotton of the blue variety. I chanced upon a light blue thread and went about my ungodly business.
I winced as the hand that gripped the needle encircled the base of the button with foreign thread. (The button having been reinserted into its native position.)
With the wicked task done I was reunited with my “riveted waist overalls” and a marked improvement at once could be observed in my demeanor. I was once again of the sect that coupled so much of it’s identity with your denim pants.
Life did go on; no other assailment would afflict my jeans for near on a month.
The next attack on my 538s proved to be their last. I was in attendance of a gathering at a house in the suburb of Melbourne called Saint Kilda. The purpose of the event was a celebration of a new addition to the occupancy list of the house; a new house mate for my friend Mark. During which all in attendance were merry and jovial.
The horror in question happened at some time before midnight. I was in conversation with another of my friend, Sharon, about her ability to perform the acrobatic skill known as “the splits”, whereby each leg is extended as far away from the opposite leg as can be done, bringing the base of one’s torso as close to the ground as possible.
She executed the said skill and when asked if I were capable of doing the same I replied in the affirmative.
I was mid way through the requested manoeuvre when disaster struck. An agonizing sound could be heard and a six inch laceration appeared in the inner thigh area of my left leg. No! How could this be? My Levis have failed me again!
I can admit now in the rational benefit of hindsight that I was temporarily insane. My sanity like my jeans had been torn. An animal inside me reached down into the wound and tore the last remaining fibres down to the base of my leg.
I was left with the realisation of what had occurred. A force such as the extension of ones leg from the other had caused my jeans to disintegrate.
But these aren’t just any other pair of jeans, these are Levi’s. The jeans emblazoned with the two horse leather patch claiming that even they, powerful beasts, couldn’t pull them apart. But this had proven itself to be but a cruel lie. For if the movement of one man could injure this garment, then horses could positively obliterate them.
All I ask is this? Do I buy another pair of Levi’s jeans or will I forever harbour the fear that a mere extension of limb will cause them to suffer irreparable damage.
I appeal to you to restore my faith in a company co founded by a man who acted with “fairness and integrity in his dealings with his…customers”
If you could see it fit to grant me a pair of jeans to replace my now deceased pair I would wear with pride and tell all I could that Levi’s are the only jeans for me.
Yours truly,
Michael Waters
(32 Waist, 32 leg)
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