Hunting Season 2009 — Part Two
When hunting season begins, fashionista that I am (or was) —— and even though I have no intention of shooting or killing anything — I find myself suddenly wearing camo. I can’t seem to help it. This would have horrified me in my previous, city life. It horrifies my daughter now. But when November arrives in Central Texas, at least one bit of camo seems almost required. Like cheering for the high school teams, one should be at least slightly caught up in the spirit of hunting season.
When hunting season begins, fashionista that I am (or was) —— and even though I have no intention of shooting or killing anything — I find myself suddenly wearing camo. I can’t seem to help it. This would have horrified me in my previous, city life. It horrifies my daughter now. But when November arrives in Central Texas, at least one bit of camo seems almost required. Like cheering for the high school teams, one should be at least slightly caught up in the spirit of hunting season.
Zack and I have extremely different buying styles when it comes to hunting clothes (or anything else). Zack likes high-end merchandise from catalogues such as Orvis, Land’s End, L.L Bean and Cabelas. He’ll shop our local stores as well. The things he’s acquired over a lifetime are sturdy, often gorgeous —and he wears them forever or until they fall apart. He works in these clothes as well. Sometimes he uses them for “dress.” I’ve been known to “inherit” things he’s thrown out. I hate to admit this publicly, but more than once he’s caught me fishing things out of his trash can if they’re still really good and he just changed his mind. It’s become an inside joke, my dirty little secret (until now).
I usually don’t stoop THAT low but do often hunt for my outdoor gear at yard sales, thrift shops, and the like. I may save up for that gorgeous boutique jacket for a special occasion. But I refuse to spend the same amount on a hunting vest that will, likely as not, end up at some point in mud or cow poop. It’s called priorities. This kind of clothing is a guy thing, and I just don’t have the same attraction to it —or the hormones or whatever. Having said that, I will tell you that, living on a ranch, I’ve come to appreciate work clothes like insulated overalls. But that’s about survival, and clothing is like a tool in that instance. Anyway, I’ve always known that my yard sale tendencies horrify Zack and most of my friends. But even the prissiest of the latter have had to admit I’ve come home with some real winners over the years. Besides, with all the talk of recycling, I’m proud to do my part.
One of the best buys I ever made was a ten dollar pair of waterproof, lace-up, camo boots. I can slog through our creeks in those things almost up to my knees, stay warm and dry. I’ve found that the parents of young men (size 6 foot) are proudly prone to buying their offspring the perfect pair of boots for this or that special or seasonal purpose. From the looks of these items at yard sales, the young men in question grew so fast that the shoes were never actually worn. (It has been suggested that anticipation is often better than reality). Thus, the $100 pair of waterproof, camo boots in my closet that cost me $10. And I considered that a lot of money for a yard sale buy.
I recently found two identical, size Men’s L hunting vests at a yard sale. I brought them home, washed them, and offered one to Zack. I assumed he would turn it down, possibly with great disdain. Zack doesn’t have my open-minded approach to “gently loved” clothing. He surprised me by praising my find. After all, it was very manly and useful, with plenty of pockets. But I notice this garment is still hanging in his closet (that we jokingly refer to as “Brooks Brothers South”). I, on the other hand, have thoroughly enjoyed my vest ever since hunting season began—when I mysteriously, seemingly with no control whatsoever, slipped helplessly and inexorably into camo world. (For a dollar, if I change my mind, I can pass the thing along to the local thrift shop or a consignment store. I can recycle it to someone else who would appreciate it as I have. I’m usually not deeply invested in my yard sale finds).
I discovered that a vest with so many pockets can hold all my necessities for hours of working on the ranch. Normally I lug around one of my huge, trademark handbags for town trips. Heaven forbid I should need something and not have it on my person. (That would be almost as bad as being down to the last roll of bath tissue). But a big, fashionable bag won’t serve in the field. Right now, in the generous and plentiful pockets of my wonderful, pre-owned hunting vest, there are these items; cell phone, ear plugs with case, pocket knife, binoculars, bandana/hanky, Chap Stick, sun block, emergency Dove dark chocolates (2), work gloves, plastic bag, neck scarf, reading glasses and sunglasses. I’ve often packed more, depending on special needs for any particular day. I’m thinking of sewing extra pockets over the bullet holders, which I won’t be needing. I don’t want to kill anything that isn’t trying to kill me first. (Pass the steak. I know it’s hypocritical). I publicly admit I’m the hunting version of “all hat and no cattle.” My camo’s all for show, but I’m sold on the vest!
