Robell Jeans

Robell jeans.

I bought another pair of Robell jeans. All hail Robell! I will never by any other jeans or trousers in my entire life. No more trying to get other brand jeans up in a sweaty changing room and having to ask a pouty assistant who think I am the size of a house (12-14) and shouldn’t be out in public anyway, at least not in daylight, for a larger pair.

No more buying pair of cheap jeans that seem ok but when you get home you stare at the mirror in horrified fascination at a camel toe to rival something usually plodding about in the Sudan.

No more wearing a belt that constricts enough to double as a gastric band because the cheap jeans gape at the back.

I will never again have a wash board stomach. I vaguely remember having one when I was eight but that was only because I went through a period of austerity. The rest of the family didn’t, I was just a faddy eater.  The threat of a hospital stay for anaemia cures the fussiest eater. Apparently.

Now at 57 and menopausal I will happily reward myself every week with a Marks and Spencers fresh cream éclair for not throttling anyone.

But…my biggest reward to myself is a pair of Robell jeans or trousers. If I was atheist I would have been instantly converted when putting these garments on. I kid you not. They are so comfortable. They move with me. They don’t gape. They don’t go out of shape. They don’t shrink. Which is a bonus in this house because everything gets washed on one setting. I chuck it all in to fend for itself.  Life is waaay too short to faff about with settings and as I operate at full tilt most of the time everything else has to keep up. And my Robell jeans do. They meet every expectation of them and more. Much more. All hail Robell!

Susan Pengelly