We all know about faux fur and faux leather, but what is up with these “faux” pockets?
I keep buying clothes only to find out that my pockets are fake. Why does this even matter? Sometimes I just want to put my hands somewhere, you know, like, rest them on my butt. But (butt–ha), there’s no where to tuck my fingers away because the back pockets aren’t real.
This happens with jackets I’ve bought too. I unzip the pocket to try to stash something away (woah, what are you trying to stash?? Oh, you know, things like fortunes from a fortune cookie, or maybe a ticket stub, pennies, veggie tray platters, a small puppy-sized elephant . . . I don’t know–the possibilities are endless) but I’m sorely disappointed! It’s a fake! Why do they even bother to sew in a zipper? I’m pretty sure it’d be easier to actually makeshift the real pocket than to maneuver the fabric so it only appears like a pocket.
I don’t get it.
So, I’ve had this one shirt for over 3 years now, and I wear it pretty frequently. It has 2 chest pockets that have snap buttons. One Sunday, I wanted to put my guitar pick somewhere so that it wouldn’t get lost. Brilliant me, I was like, “Oh! I have this pocket up here on my chest. It is small. My guitar pick is also small. This is perfect!”
I proceeded to try to unsnap my pocket. It wouldn’t budge. In my mind I thought that this snap button was really strong–how had I never realized this before? Perhaps that’s why I never put anything in the pockets–the buttons were too hard to unsnap!
But I was determined. With God as my witness, I would unsnap this button and drop my guitar pick into it!
At that point I had only been mindlessly using one hand to open the pocket flap, but once I realized it would need more force, I proceeded to use both hands. This was a mistake.
I got so flustered and was so adamant about opening this pocket, that I used my herculean strength to tear my shirt to shreds! No. That didn’t happen. What did happen was I tore a hole in my shirt.
I was surprised by the lack of unsnapping and the alarming ttthhhrrrrpppp that ensued.
There was a hole. I just stared at it, dumbfounded and embarrassed.
Needless to say, my guitar pick did not end up in either of the shirt pockets (that actually didn’t exist). Go figure.