The Best Skinny Jeans For Women That Aren’t Skinny

Not sponsored.

8757PWDE_BLACK_3_largeNothing gives a middle-aged woman more pleasure than great customer service. Perhaps, because we’ve been through the mill of life, getting hurt, feeling under-appreciated and losing friends we once believed to be loyal, given the right treatment, we are about as loyal as a royal Corgi.

And in my opinion, overall, customer service is improving in terms of the quality of staff and that horrid small print about our rights as consumers that we only seem to know about once we’ve lost our receipt.

However, when I returned a pair of new trousers this morning – that I’d worn over the weekend and for which I had thrown away the receipt – I’ll admit that I thought my chances of a credit note for them were as high as an apology from Trump for existing his speech yesterday.

With my trip to the UK at the forefront of my mind at the moment and my concern about Game Of Thrones-style Westeros weather, I’ve wasted a fair amount of time fretting about the limitations of my wardrobe. Here in Sydney, for most of the year we get by with layering – no layers for three seasons of the year and a couple of light layers in winter – but if memory serves me right, “layering” holds little sway in the northern hemisphere and its icy winds, unless they’re made from mammoth fur. Added to which, the weight I have gained this year from eating too much menopause, means that most of my trousers no longer fit.

So last weekend, I ditched my lifelong lie of ditching some weight before I buy new clothes – the lie I’ve told myself since I first discovered beer at university – and I bought myself what I thought was a sensible, safe new pair of cargo-style trousers, with an elastic waist.

E.L.A.S.T.I.C W.A.I.S.T… Sounds so good, doesn’t it? Almost sexual. Almost as good as “early night” or “more wine?”

And, understandably, I was excited to wear them, because nothing says “comfort” or “eat as much as you like,” like an elastic waist. So I did, for most of yesterday, until I discovered that “elastic waists” are not quite as efficient when their flexibility means that they don’t hold your trousers up, and after a day spent yanking them up in awkward places and generally fretting about them, I decided to take them back.

I’m lying, it was NC who convinced me to take them back – which is easy when you’re not the one trying to negotiate a credit on the basis of a design fault that may actually have much more to do with the bizarre shape of your body and which is guaranteed to leave the junior members of staff in your local shop, hating on you.

However, credit where credit it is due, the wonderful ladies in Decjuba, pretended to believe my story and, long story short, I came away with the most comfortable new sausage casing for my legs, EVAR! And they don’t fall down.

According to the lovely assistant that won the short straw of offering me help and advice (even though I was spending a suspect credit note), the Riley Stretch Skinny is their most popular style of skinny jeans – and she didn’t even add “with fussy, middle-aged woman with nothing better to do than give underpaid retail assistants a hard time.”  And I can understand why. Because, if like me you are forever searching for that elusive jean that makes your legs look skinny and long while absorbing the full wondrousness of your full-blown winter muffin top in comfort, these are the jean for you.

But, obviously… I can never go back to Decjuba.

Now That’s The Way To Get House Insurance!

English: Lifebuoy from insurance company TrygVesta
English: Lifebuoy from insurance company TrygVesta (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Admittedly the damage wasn’t quite on the same scale as the devastation in Queensland, but the Sydney ‘showers’ last week, propelled by the cyclone up north, fully exposed the more shoddy bits of workmanship in our new rental house; the ones the property manager forgot to mention in his copy when marketing it for some exorbitant rent.

I don’t remember the adjective ‘leaking’ being a commonly-used word to describe the beautiful old slate roof, for example.

The main victims of our deluge were the hire sofa and my very expensive and treasured (!) Ikea coir rug. Fortunately, the water did miss the ADHDer’s Ipad by about a hair, so in spite of the catastrophe, I did just about manage to maintain my sanity in the face of my first climate change crisis.

Always one step ahead of the game and an absolute professional at closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, I put my call into the NRMA for some contents insurance the following morning.

It’s not that I expected them to cough up money for damage that had happened twelve hours previously, (during the freak micro wild weather crisis that had lashed at the wobbly and decrepit old roof tiles above my rental sofa), but the situation I found myself in did prove two things: that sh*t does indeed happen, and as galling as it is to have to shell out dollar upon dollar in ever-increasing premiums, insurance companies really do have us by the proverbial balls.

However, fate occasionally does have a hand in creating a blue sky out of a grey one and my tail-between-the-legs call to the NRMA, (post domestic flood), was handled by the most extraordinary joker sales person I have ever had the good fortune to come across in a crisis. This is how my enquiry for a quotation for contents insurance went, the day after THOSE storms.

Judge for yourselves:

Him: NRMA, how can I help you?

Me: Can I have a quote for some contents insurance, please?

Him: Water still pouring in then? Is it the carpet, the sofa or were you really lucky and it destroyed both?

Me: I’m……..sorry?

Him: Simply assuming that like the rest of Sydney you’ve decided to get insurance AFTER the storm?

Me: Um, not exactly, there hasn’t been any water damage (LIE, LIE, LIE! Biting lip, which I always do when forced into a white lie situation)…it’s just that we have recently moved and I need some new insurance.

Him: Can I ask what type of house you live in, Louisa? Rich or poor? And how many floors?

Me: A terraced house with three floors.

Him: A T.E.R.R.A.C.E.D house, DARLING! With THREE WHOLE FLOORS! Anything else I need to know….not also hiding a meths lab in the basement are you?

Me: WHAT? (Now laughing).

Him: Only joking… and don’t quote me on that. What standard of furniture would you like me to cover you for?

Me: What are my choices?

Him: Band 1: Ikea; Band 2: Slightly better than Ikea; band 3: Wouldn’t be seen dead in Ikea – Band 3 covers antiques, designer furniture and posh sh*t like that.

Me: Definitely Band 1.

Him: SURELY NOT! Not in that suburb of Sydney! How terribly embarrassing for you!

Me: Erm….(I have a very ‘tight’ husband who actually thinks that Ikea is expensive)….we have teenagers….it’s not really worth investing in good furniture.

Him: And what security do you have at the property?

Me: Grilles, alarm, deadlocks….you name it, we’ve got it. But we probably won’t use any of them…they’ll act as more of a deterrent.

Him: Fantastic! The reassurance every insurance company and potential robber wants to hear…..

And so it went on. And as I was signing my life away with my credit card details twenty minutes later….

Him: (deadpan) And tell me, how would you feel about me adding my rent payment onto your card? I’m a bit short this month.

(Mouth wide open).

Now that’s what I call service.