Although under slightly different circumstances, most, if not all, of us have had nightmares of the exact predicament that you experienced while traveling through LAS.
Now the question I have to answer for myself is... "Do I start to pack a spare pair of jeans in my computer bag?
Only a little threadbare. It’s been ten minutes since I read the story and I’m still snort laughing.
short stories about clothing failures. My sister sang in a band in the 70’s and we would sometimes put fat bandaids over our nipples so we didn’t need a bra. We were young and perky. I was watching her sing one night and one if her dress straps slid over her shoulder as she played her big Martin. What she did not clock was the flap of bodice that released and flopped down , revealing a juicy mound of breast flesh but nippleless in the weak lights of the bar. I noticed table by table people squinting, leaning in tj try and make sense of the phenomenon. Luckily it was pretty late and people drank real drinks in those days, so when the song ended and she realized what had gone on . Sharman turned away and casually put herself back together. The bartender and I were the only people who understood, except for the band members who were nonplussed and still tell the story in their extended living apartment get togethers.
One question remains: how does one even manage to design pants that *explode* at even the slightest stress? That's honestly quite the achievement on the designer's part, I must say.
Ditto what Michael Stephan wrote. My story involves the ingestion of something…uh, *bad*…, an unmercifully long line at an airport in Brazil and my suspicion that the airplane clean-up crew probably wore hazmat suits when they approached my seat at the end of the flight.
I have also been grateful now and again for an extra pair of packed pants. This story inspires me to go find two pairs of skinny pin-stripe stretch slacks and have them be my designated back-up pants as well as my initial flight attire. YOLO.
This kills me ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Although under slightly different circumstances, most, if not all, of us have had nightmares of the exact predicament that you experienced while traveling through LAS.
Now the question I have to answer for myself is... "Do I start to pack a spare pair of jeans in my computer bag?
I would suggest this, yes, Michael. I'm just saying...
Only a little threadbare. It’s been ten minutes since I read the story and I’m still snort laughing.
short stories about clothing failures. My sister sang in a band in the 70’s and we would sometimes put fat bandaids over our nipples so we didn’t need a bra. We were young and perky. I was watching her sing one night and one if her dress straps slid over her shoulder as she played her big Martin. What she did not clock was the flap of bodice that released and flopped down , revealing a juicy mound of breast flesh but nippleless in the weak lights of the bar. I noticed table by table people squinting, leaning in tj try and make sense of the phenomenon. Luckily it was pretty late and people drank real drinks in those days, so when the song ended and she realized what had gone on . Sharman turned away and casually put herself back together. The bartender and I were the only people who understood, except for the band members who were nonplussed and still tell the story in their extended living apartment get togethers.
Thanks, Jane.
And thanks for sharing some Old School tricks of the trade! Great story.
Like Roger Daltry pants.
Lord, I remember.
Here’s to skinny, stretchy, man slacks!
Forever, Sara.
So hilarious! What a memory you have been carrying around with you!
It's been a bit of a cross to bear.
One question remains: how does one even manage to design pants that *explode* at even the slightest stress? That's honestly quite the achievement on the designer's part, I must say.
Well, it was more than slight stress, I'm afraid, but yes...it was a bit much AND high marks for design.
I think they could make for an interesting burlesque prop, or a sadistic party trick, depending on your mood!
Yes, more burlesque. I was basically wearing chaps after the blowout.
LAUGHING OUT LOUD! This is so delicious.
Ditto what Michael Stephan wrote. My story involves the ingestion of something…uh, *bad*…, an unmercifully long line at an airport in Brazil and my suspicion that the airplane clean-up crew probably wore hazmat suits when they approached my seat at the end of the flight.
I have also been grateful now and again for an extra pair of packed pants. This story inspires me to go find two pairs of skinny pin-stripe stretch slacks and have them be my designated back-up pants as well as my initial flight attire. YOLO.
Yes...a backup pair of exactly the same type of pants that exploded is flipping the bird to the young. Great idea, Meg. We MEANT to do that!
This was hysterical. But blaming the pants failure on body fat that I don’t believe. Maybe it was a couple extra cookies or maybe a piece of pie ??
You're being kind, but whatever caused this, it did the trick...cookie, pie, whatever!