In the fitting room

On my 13th birthday, what I wanted more than anything was a pair of Wrangler jeans. Of course, I had perfectly good jeans already – but they were knock-off brands bought cheaply from discount stores.

My mum (quite rightly, in retrospect) reasoned that as I was growing fast, she wasn’t going to buy me expensive name brand clothing, no matter how much I protested. She told me that if I wanted a pair of Wranglers, I would have to buy them myself. Having been given quite a lot of money for my birthday, I determined to do just that and headed into town one Saturday summer afternoon.

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