I'll probably never wear scratch-and-sniff jeans

I’ll probably never wear a pair of scratch-and-sniff jeans.

I say "probably" because when I was a young man full of pith — or something — and vinegar, my wardrobe consisted mainly of T-shirts shorn at the sleeves via steak knife, flip-flops and ill-fitting shorts. In the blind, ragged certainty of youth, I boasted, "I don’t care what the ‘man’ says, I’ll never wear suits and ties and socks like some jive turkey."

My slang was terribly out of date at the time thanks to an addiction to "Good Times" cable TV reruns, and my prediction on my future wardrobe was horribly inaccurate, due mostly to the weddings and funerals one encounters as one slides through young adulthood and into middle age.

I’ve learned to couch "never" with "probably."

So, I’ll probably never wear scratch-and-sniff jeans.

But if I wanted to pull on a pair, they’re out there for the pulling. I learned this from the UK publication The Mirror.

"Hate doing laundry?" reads a Feb. 5 story by Stephen Hayward. "Then a new range of ‘scratch and sniff jeans’ may be just what you’re looking for. The denims, which smell of raspberries, have been designed to be worn for months without being washed."

Personally, I thought all jeans were designed to be worn for months without being washed.

Intrigued, and a little disturbed by the revelation of the existence of scented trousers, I launched an immediate investigation into these raspberry jeans, which would certainly compliment any raspberry beret. (One-thousand, 208 columns, first Prince reference.)

The jeans are made by Naked & Famous Denim, which, legend has it, was the company name Levi Strauss originally considered back in 1853.

Legend doesn’t actually have that, but Naked & Famous does make scratch-and-sniff jeans.

The website explains the company’s pants philosophy:

"We keep our jeans raw and simple."

Well, yeah, except for the raspberry part.

"No washes, no embroidery, no gimmicks…"

To play devil’s advocate here, I would argue the raspberry scent, in some fashion circles, could be considered a gimmick.

"We have eliminated these costly (and in our opinion unnecessary) after-effects, and have stripped down our jeans to the core essentials."

Fine. If someone’s idea of core essentials is the odor of the "edible fruit of a multitude of plant species in the genus Rubus" (thanks again for the smart talk, Wikipedia), I would concur with that statement.

"Yes, these jeans actually smell like raspberry candy when scratched," reads the Naked & Famous Denim blurb on their newest product. "The effect is created by coating the denim fabric with a special coating that contains mini microcapsules."

Sounds a bit dangerous. I knew a guy who took some mini microcapsules at a Phish concert and woke up a week later handcuffed to a sink at an I-95 rest area with a peace sign tattooed on his forehead. Or legend has it.

I simply believe it would be difficult for me to wear raspberry-scented, scratch-and-sniff jeans to the hardware store.

"Carl, I’ve got a leaking U-trap back at the house."

"OK, let’s mosey over here to plumbing and see what we’ve got. Watch that display there -– oops, caught your pants leg … what is that intoxicating aroma that has suddenly filled the store?"

"Raspberries. I’ve got on a pair of those scratch-and-sniff jeans. I can go for months without washing them. Of course, I go for months without washing all my jeans. I’ve even kicked these up a notch. Scratch right here, it smells like raspberries. Scratch right here, it smells like barbecue sauce. Scratch right here, it smells like motor oil. Scratch right here, well, believe me, you don’t want to scratch right there."

As previously stated, I’ll probably never wear a pair of scratch-and-sniff jeans. But if I do happen to find a pair on sale.

Scott Hollifield is editor/GM of The McDowell News in Marion, NC and a columnist for the Media General News Service.