Obsolution

They were the nicest, most popular things known to mankind, but they were now obsolete. The only memories they left behind were those that pertained to a vague feeling of comfort and the slight cravings for hot cocoa on a rainy day. Left to fend for themselves, they retired a long time ago to the safety of their log cabins in the mountains, condemned forever to an existence that went on and on, and only reminded them of their glamourous heydays and their once top-dog position.

"It was different back then," our source says, on condition of anonymity "Money was no object as long as men, women and children were happy and at ease. Now, these newfangled stilettos and whatnot make them rethink the wisdom of investing in something this long lasting."

'Tis a pity, but 'tis true.

In the crowds of skinny jeans and mini skirts, hotpants and whatever else that shows off curves to the best advantage, where is the place for someone sporting ye good olde scruffy, bulky albeit comfy-as-hell jeans?

She fades into the background regardless of who she's with, because, undeniably, them that wear all those other things are hotter than she can hope to be.

They bring up desires that have lain dormant. They make you want to flirt, to talk to people more easily, be the stud that that dude is.

She doesn't even bother to fight it. It's called resignation, she's an old hand.

The oldbluejeans community in the mountains open their arms to her. She and others like her, and them oldies will continue to live a seemingly endless life hidden away from the cut-throat world outside.