I actually do like this commercial for Wrangler jeans; what’s NOT to like? There’s George Strait’s foot stompin’, musical homage to the American cowboy, the energy of hundreds of amped up, good-looking young cowboys and cowgirls. They’re bright eyed and smiling, all their teeth intact, straight and white. There isn’t a scar nor bruise to be seen. Their shirts and jeans, (presumably all Wranglers), are clean and pressed, their hats new, with “snappy,” well shaped brims. Pretty much commercial fantasy.
I look out my kitchen window at the cowboys with whom I live and work; my husband and his brother, a cousin, and five other local friends. The day is gloomy, with wind-driven rain, and sometimes snow. They’re bringing in about 50 head of cattle, pairs, actually, to separate the cows and calves. The calves will be shipped off “to market,” (always a sad time for me, but that’s another blog subject.) Watching these “real” cowboys, and two cowgirls, anyone with even limited vision would be struck by the difference in “reality’ and tv “fantasy.’
My husband and his brother wear baseball caps and tennis shoes; one of the others, (I won’t reveal who!), looks a bit like he mugged a bag lady to pull together his ensemble, and instead of a rope, he carries a beat up broom with which to “herd” cattle! You’ll never see THAT in a George Strait commercial, or anybody else’s New York styled advertisement, for that matter! Four others are dressed in fairly standard ranch gear: jeans, boots, gloves, sweatshirts, jackets and stocking caps.
Of the entire group, there is one who is dressed in an “authentic,” working cowboy uniform. He sports a hat that looks as if it’s seen a hundred years of sun, bad weather,
difficult cows and mean broncs. The brim is not “snappy,” and it may have been brown,
or grey, at one time. His “wild rag,” (scarf), is torn and faded from jaunty red to a dull brick shade, and his chaps, (SHaps, please!), bear the scars of a multitude of tangles with sage, chaparral, thorns and barbed wire. His boots, probably as soft and comfortable as an old pair of slippers, slouch around his ankles and spurs. A well worn jacket, (translation: “beat-to-hell!”), keeps the wind, rain and snow at bay. His shaggy little cowpony sports a saddle slicked and shined by, literally, hundreds of hours and miles of field, desert and mountain riding. And his jeans….
I don’t know what brand of jeans he wears, but if someone wanted to make a commercial showing the true worth of their denim, they should borrow Jesus’ jeans.
Carlie: I am so sorry to hear about Sammy. He was a loyal & loving companion. Scot