Enigmatic denim man spotted in Aitkin
By Cody Philipp
Published May 18, 2018
Denim. A strong, stylish, and blue material that was invented in Italy in 1873. A material known for being used in jeans, and occasionally vests. Few would expect someone to wear an entire outfit made of denim. I have seen such a creature however, dressed all in denim, as blue as the sky and as dashing as could be.
I was working at Rosalini’s, one of my first days at that job. I was washing dishes at the time and had just put the last of the dishes up on the drying rack, and I was hungry for more dishes to clean. I popped my head out over the French doors and saw my hero. The man I hope to emulate one day, a man of mystery and style unlike any I have seen before or have seen since. I hazard to guess I will never see anyone like that man until I die and meet him in heaven. He was dressed all in glorious blue, his denim cowboy hat stood strong and his denim boots supported his elderly frame. His denim vest rested over his denim jacket, keeping him toasty in the chilly Fall air. His jacket was buttoned up to the base of his breast. He sauntered like a man with a plan, and he must have ambitions far above anything I could comprehend.
I pushed the French doors aside and entered the dining room to gather the deliciously dirty plates that I endeavored to clean. I piled them into one large stack and hefted them back to the dish room to scrub. All the while denim man stood and stared at the menu through thick Coke bottle glasses, deciding what he may or may not like. I pushed my way back into the dish room and set to work to clear off the dirty dishes of their half eaten meals. I piled the dishes into the sink and turned. I popped my head back out over the top of the French doors and was appalled at what I didn’t see. Denim man was gone. He hadn’t placed an order, he hadn’t said anything, he hadn’t been praised for his perfection.
My heart stopped, my stomach sank, my throat clogged, and my head began to spin. I had so many questions for this enigmatic man. Why are you wearing so much denim? How rich are you to afford a suit of pure denim? Why did you not purchase any of our quality food? To this day I have not seen denim man, or anyone similar. It is certainly not for lack of effort. Everyday I keep my eyes peeled for the glorious man in denim.
Published May 18, 2018
Denim. A strong, stylish, and blue material that was invented in Italy in 1873. A material known for being used in jeans, and occasionally vests. Few would expect someone to wear an entire outfit made of denim. I have seen such a creature however, dressed all in denim, as blue as the sky and as dashing as could be.
I was working at Rosalini’s, one of my first days at that job. I was washing dishes at the time and had just put the last of the dishes up on the drying rack, and I was hungry for more dishes to clean. I popped my head out over the French doors and saw my hero. The man I hope to emulate one day, a man of mystery and style unlike any I have seen before or have seen since. I hazard to guess I will never see anyone like that man until I die and meet him in heaven. He was dressed all in glorious blue, his denim cowboy hat stood strong and his denim boots supported his elderly frame. His denim vest rested over his denim jacket, keeping him toasty in the chilly Fall air. His jacket was buttoned up to the base of his breast. He sauntered like a man with a plan, and he must have ambitions far above anything I could comprehend.
I pushed the French doors aside and entered the dining room to gather the deliciously dirty plates that I endeavored to clean. I piled them into one large stack and hefted them back to the dish room to scrub. All the while denim man stood and stared at the menu through thick Coke bottle glasses, deciding what he may or may not like. I pushed my way back into the dish room and set to work to clear off the dirty dishes of their half eaten meals. I piled the dishes into the sink and turned. I popped my head back out over the top of the French doors and was appalled at what I didn’t see. Denim man was gone. He hadn’t placed an order, he hadn’t said anything, he hadn’t been praised for his perfection.
My heart stopped, my stomach sank, my throat clogged, and my head began to spin. I had so many questions for this enigmatic man. Why are you wearing so much denim? How rich are you to afford a suit of pure denim? Why did you not purchase any of our quality food? To this day I have not seen denim man, or anyone similar. It is certainly not for lack of effort. Everyday I keep my eyes peeled for the glorious man in denim.