Dye Job

The Project: Filthy Pants


Okay, so the project description isn’t very descriptive, and it isn’t exactly accurate. But I am seriously sick of the short life of the prettiness of jeans. If a day goes by in which I do not spill coffee on my pants while driving, then it’s because I’m wearing a skirt. And as I have outgrown spinning around on my knees, by a couple decades, I have no freaking clue what the heck is up with the knees of every pair.

A bit of Shout extends their lives for a while, but eventually they all come out of the dryer looking like I haven’t washed them and there’s nothing else to do for it but dye them.


Well, I’ve double-checked and determined that I didn’t save any of the rest of the shots of the process. I don’t remember them being very good or very informative, anyway.

I put all my jeans, as well as some denim scraps to be used to patch knee holes into a very large pot filled with several packs of dye. They came out not nearly dark enough and the knees continued to look ugly. I also spilled some drips onto the shirt I was wearing and couldn’t get them out.

So the next round happened in a larger bucket with a lot more packets of dye and included the dye-spotted shirt and a dress belonging to my roommate that had a dull white bodice.



2 thoughts on “Dye Job

  1. You’ve bewitched your words and you tolerate your judgments
    And stick them onto caboodle
    If it don’t conform to what you were born into,
    Then you run the other behaviour pattern
    You say, “now what’s your style and who do you lend an ear to to?” who cares?
    Properly that rat channel ladder-climbing fake-face beam’s got nothing on me

  2. Thank you for the good writeup. It in fact was a amusement account it. Look advanced to more added agreeable from you!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.