True Religion. Indie. AG. Blue Cult. Sacred Blue. Citizens of Humanity. 7 for All Mankind. Paper Denim & Cloth. Elie Tahari. Rock & Republic. James. Joe’s. Earl’s. Da’mage. Hefner. Notify. Eanest Sewn. Salt Work. Frankie B. Sergio Valente. Lucky’s.

No clue what I’m talking about? Where have you been?

They’re all blue jeans that sell for more than $100.* Yup. That’s ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Most go for between $125 and $190. But if you really want to get fancy, you can choose ones with more holes and pay more. Or you can choose ones with things on them (sequins?) and pay as much as $1,000.  I kid you not.

Levi’s and Lee’s still exist. Tho not for $12.95.

And how do I now know about this foolishness you might ask?  Let me explain.

I happen to be a Boston Red Sox fan. Well, ‘happen’ is probably not the right word. My wonderful grandfather (Pappy) took me to Fenway Park when I was about seven or eight years old. We sat in his box seats behind the Red Sox dugout, and he pointed out Ted Williams and the Green Monster and began my baseball education.

That was about 54 years ago. But I was hooked from the start. When I wasn’t in Boston, which was most of the time, I would listen on the radio when Sox games were broadcast in Orlando, FL, my home between trips to Boston in the summer. Ah, those summers. A few days before camp and a few days after camp. The highlight of the year. Spring Training with my other grandfather was pretty good too when the Sox game to Tinker Field. But nothing could take the place of those games with Pappy in Fenway.

Pappy died almost forty years ago. But his gift to me lives. His passion became mine. And for the last five and a half decades, I’ve faithfully followed the Sox through all of their trials and misfortunes. What a lesson in the realities of life.

A couple of decades ago I went and had children. And of course as soon as they were old enough, I did my best to indoctrinate them into the obsession. With some success, I might add. There were even several years when I was able to convince them that the best way to celebrate their birthdays was to take a group of friends to Camden Yards to see the Orioles play Boston. We even got the Orioles’ mascot to come to where we were sitting and lead the whole section in a Happy Birthday salute.

But I digress. Sorry. As everyone with even an ounce of awareness knows, the Red Sox won the World Series in October of 2004, the first time in 86 years. Not only did this victory take a long time, it almost didn’t happen at all. The Sox were down three games to zero to the hated Yankees and were losing the fourth one going into the ninth inning against the best reliever in the history of baseball. It was pretty clear they wouldn’t even make it to the World Series.  Another year of heartache.

A minor miracle. They some how won. They were still alive.

And that’s where I made my mistake. I promised one of my daughters a shopping trip if they won the World Series. No problem, right? They would have to beat the Yankees four straight. And even if that unlikely scenario happened, they’d still have to win four games in the World Series. I was pretty safe.

So I thought. Within 10 seconds of the final out of the fourth game of the World Series, my cell phone rang in St. Louis (where else would I be after 54 years?). One daughter screeching for joy and reminding me about the shopping trip. And then the second daughter called. Same message. Then their mother called. If they got a shopping trip, why not her too? She had put up with all of this for all these years (merely 36, I thought, but I didn’t mention that).

And so three shopping trips .  Each $1,000.  191.8 minutes (1918 being the last year they won the WS for those of you who have been living in a cave). Five stores. Five items of clothes. No jewelry, shoes, or purses. Pre-shopping in two stores. No putting clothes aside. I would accompany but couldn’t veto any purchase (my advice could be sought, but we know what they think about my taste). Maximum amount of any one purchase $300.

And thus I found myself walking on lower Broadway with one daughter November 11, 2004. I had ten $100 bills in my pocket, a notebook to record everything, a calculator, a watch, and my sunglasses (to hide behind if we went into a lingerie store).

(...the remainder of this description was never written. The above is as far as I got. But you probably can imagine the three shopping trips, each one as different as the personalities of my two daughters and wife. Would you believe that all three of them involved lingerie stores? How could they do that to me?  Maybe I deserved it for having them put up with my years of obsession.)

*Since this writing in 2004, these costs have nearly doubled, as some of you may know.