Yesterday I bought some new blue jeans. At age 68 it was next to impossible to find my size among the Levis, but Lee had what I was looking for. I walked out with two pairs for about $70. I bought them at Kohl’s. They were on sale.
BUT, I wished I could have returned to Count’s Western Wear. That’s where I always bought my jeans ever since I was a lad in old Friendship Heights. It used to be at 4905 Wisconsin Avenue in DC. They had Levis galore, stacked on shelves that went up to the ceiling — on two floors — every style and size imaginable. I think they closed down in the mid-to-late ‘70s.
Whenever I think of blue jeans Count’s Western Wear was the place. I scoured the internet looking for an old photo of the shop but, alas, there wasn’t a one to be had. Somehow I connected Count’s up with that old cowboy-looking house that used to stand in my old neighborhood, further north down Wisconsin across from Saks (a photograph of which is provided above). In the ‘60s Tommy Williams and his family lived there. They had a mini-farm around back with a big vegetable patch and some chickens.
If I recall correctly, Count's had a sort of a sign in the shape of a cowboy that hung out from the shop. Inside it was an imaginarium of country and western culture, with framed photos signed by Dottie West on the wall (among others) and, if I remember right, there was even a saddle and a small selection of other riding accoutrement.
There were all sorts of interesting things in their display cases. Once they sold me, of all things, a small jar of genuine ginseng extract (which was long before I ever went to Korea.) So going there and exploring the nooks and crannies of the place was always a treat. And the folks that worked there had an authentic tinge of country in them. I suppose I must have seemed like a punk to them, but they gladly indulged me.
There were all sorts of interesting things in their display cases. Once they sold me, of all things, a small jar of genuine ginseng extract (which was long before I ever went to Korea.) So going there and exploring the nooks and crannies of the place was always a treat. And the folks that worked there had an authentic tinge of country in them. I suppose I must have seemed like a punk to them, but they gladly indulged me.
Count’s was cool. It belonged to another world that moved on from DC long ago. But in those days there was still a lingering sense of DC’s connection to its rural roots.
As I recall, the main manager there used to live over on Nevada Ave near McKinley Street, N.W. — at least I saw him there a few times when I visited a friend of mine in that neighborhood.
Those old days are long behind us now. Still, Count’s Western Wear remains a solid and enduring place in my memory. It’s funny, even surprising, how country and western culture was so accessible here in this city back then. Levis were integral to rough ranch and farm work, and weirdly, they also became part of the adoptive uniform of the hip generation of those old days.
Yes, Count’s Western Wear was nothing like a corporate clothing store like Kohl’s. Count's absolutely reeked with the doughty smell of denim; and it's tiny dressing room doors along the aisle had mere curtains (easy off-and-on, then off-and-on again — and not for the overly modest among us). It was a very personalized shop totally dedicated to Levis and to the rugged backwoods romance that they stand for. (However, I heard the Levis corporation went woke, just like all of the other multinational hive-mind businesses. Too bad, but things change.) I’m just glad that at 68 I can still buy riveted, 100% cotton denim jeans that have remained as comfortable and as cool as ever — even if they are the Lee brand and not Levis. Close enough!
