Elastic is anything but trivial: Wyn Drabble

It’s perhaps in the realm of clothing that we depend on elastic most, writes Wyn Drabble. Photo / NZME

Opinion

Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, writer, public speaker and musician. He is based in Hawke’s Bay.

Never underestimate the importance of elastic – just ask any bungee jumper.

The seemingly trivial elastic band also plays an important part in our everyday lives.

Sorry to interrupt this column so early but here is an important message for the person who has lost a huge roll of $100 notes rolled up and held together by an elastic band: I’ve found your elastic band.

It’s perhaps in the realm of clothing that we depend on elastic most. And it is at this point that I wish to introduce a song based (loosely) on “London Bridge”.

Underpants are falling down, falling down, falling down.

Underpants are falling down, please help save me.

When it happens you develop the gait of a constipated penguin and have a right to get your knickers in a knot.

I was suffering unwanted underwear descent with a brand I shall call Down, purchased from a retailer I shall call Going Down Outlet Store.

So I decided to spend a little more and bought Stay Up underwear from On The Way Up. In my letter to the retailer, I used the real names but here I have changed them so as not to ruffle any feathers unnecessarily.

I wrote:

“I was having trouble with underpants I bought from Going Down Outlet Store – after 4 or 5 wears they started slipping at the back – so, working on the principle that you get what you pay for, I decided to up my undie game. I chose Stay Up from On The Way Up and bought a 3-pack of briefs in my normal-fitting size. To my disappointment, it only took 2 wears of these before they started slipping towards the ground at the butt end. A 20-metre walk was enough to get them to the bottom (sorry!) of the buttocks where further progress was impeded by the crutch of the trousers I was wearing. If it happened to be a day when I chose not to wear trousers, they would be round the ankles after 30 metres. Needless to say, one’s gait is not enhanced by underwear which has reached the bottom of the butt (or is that the butt of the bottom?) even though they cannot descend further. Not good enough, I say. I await your supportive response.”

I sent purchase details and even a photograph of the undies.

Well, I certainly didn’t catch them with their pants down because they responded almost immediately. The investigation is ongoing and I will keep you up (again, sorry!) with developments.

There then followed a period of two weeks during which nothing underpantsy happened.

Computer: Underpantsy isn’t a word.

Me: I know. I made it up because it suits the situation.

Computer: It’s silly!

Me: Thank you.

Then, finally, something undieish happened.

Computer: Undieish isn’t a word either.

Me: It’s a synonym for underpantsy.

Alas, the undieish thing was not the retailer getting back to me because, clearly, undie returns have to go through many processes possibly involving board meetings, retreats, and rigorous elasticity testing. No, the thing that happened came from my own inventiveness.

I used one of those springy plastic clothes pegs down over the back of my trousers and the top of my undies, As long as my shirt was worn hanging out, the peg was hidden from view.

Apart from some uncomfortable moments sitting on hard chairs, it worked – except when the pressure got too much and it catapulted into my shirt tail and fell to the floor.

So if you’re walking along the street and you hear a “sproing” then a coloured plastic clothes peg appears on the ground, look for the constipated penguin up ahead.

Because please may I have my peg back?