About Jorts
I love jorts.
Jorts are denim shorts (or jean-shorts mushed together into one of those annoying hybrid words that seem to be all the rage these days, like coopetition).
Last year I gave away all my jorts. I read a post from a friend of a friend on facebook mocking jorts. Up until that time I had no idea they were the emblem of uncool, the poster child for redneckwear, the kind of clothing no self respecting urbanite would be caught dead wearing.
I looked down at my jorts — which until that moment had just been my denim shorts — and was appalled. How did I not know I was violating a top-ten law of fashion nature? At the time, I was going to the UT Law Library pretty much every weekend in my oh-so-comfy jorts and a t-shirt. No wonder the college kids snickered (and I thought it was because I’m old enough to be their grandparent).
In a pique of fashion rage, I gathered up all my jorts and stuffed them in the Goodwill bag. Good riddance! I thought, embarrassed at my fashion faux pax.
Spring came here in Texas and with it the heat. I shopped for shorts, since I had rid myself of my jorts last fall; my comfortable, practical, durable, worn-in-just-right jorts. I tried on everything. Some were too short, some too tight, some just uncomfortable, most impractical for the hard life on the ranch they were about to endure.
And I had an epiphany. I AM a redneck. I AM uncool, I AM NOT an urbanite. I identifiy more with Bo and Luke Duke than Meredith Grey or Kim Kardashian. I love NASCAR.
I go to a bar in the country that serves beer and setups only, or a steakhouse where the owner sits on the front porch in his overalls and welcomes you. Our idea of a great evening is sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch with the cats, watching the bug zapper.
I am the jorts target market.
So with this newly minted acceptance of my rural self, I rushed to Walmart and found my beloved denim duds (you can find them here: http://www.walmart.com/ip/Faded-Glory-Women-s-Denim-Bermuda-Shorts/12510721) . I happily am wearing them now, getting ready to head out the pasture to help with the mowing, with my jorts paired stylishly with a tank top and a pair of cowboy work boots. It’s a look I can rock. A fashion statement I can own.
I’ve learned that it’s better to be happy with yourself and let others mock you, than uncomfortable and conforming to other’s judgments. Sometimes cool is overrated.