An Ode to My Overalls

For six months last year, once a week between May and October, I put on a pair of overalls and played farm girl as a volunteer on a goat dairy near my home in Boulder, Colorado. I’ll soon start shifts for this summer. The experience has taught me a lot: That everything on a farm has a purpose. That nothing on a regenerative farm is wasted. That hard work is rewarding, as is caring for others, even if (especially if?) they’re goats. And that overalls rock as workwear.

When my stint on the farm started last year, my husband bought me a pair of Dovetail Freshley Lightweight Overalls as a birthday gift. I’d owned a pair of super-baggy denim overalls in my 20s that I really wish I’d kept. But I hadn’t worn a pair of overalls since. Despite feeling a little, dare I say, sheepish about looking like I was playing dress up to rake some urine-stained bedding, I stepped into my new overalls, pulled the shoulder straps over a grubby t-shirt, and reported to my shift.

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Dovetail Freshley Lightweight Overalls

$129 at Backcountry $129 at Dovetail

I instantly appreciated the durability of the fabric, as goats nibble on clothes. I also appreciated the fact that I could reach high or low and not bare my midriff or look like I was playing plumber instead of farmer. And since the bulk of my stint took place in the summer months, I was grateful that the overalls were made of lightweight ripstop cotton (with a touch of nylon and spandex for stretch) instead of heavy canvas or denim. The fabric is tough enough to withstand farm work stress—the reinforced knee and cuffs help—without making me overheat. It’s also rated UPF 50 and sheds water.

The stretchy suspenders and gusseted crotch allow full mobility whether I’m filling a bucket full of water with a garden hose (cue “There’s a hole in the bucket, Dear Liza, Dear Liza” running through my head) or carrying said bucket across a field to the kids (adorably rascally baby goats).

But the pockets, oh the pockets. The 15(!) pockets on my Dovetails are almost my favorite part about them. Loading up these pockets reminds me of “moving into” a backpack—organizing my stuff into multiple pockets—something I freaking love. Packing a backpack always kickstarts the adventure ahead, and I love the sensibility and strategy of smartly designed pockets that I’ve smartly loaded.

I feel similarly about the overall pockets in that they have made my life easier while satisfyingly organizing my stuff on my person. I stick my phone in a zippered pocket on my thigh. I place a lip balm in the fold-over pocket on my chest. I sometimes tuck sunglasses away. Truth be told, I don’t have a lot of gear/packing needs for working with the goats, but the pockets keep what I do need safe and right where I know where to find them.

My absolute favorite thing about my overalls, however, is that they make me want to work. At the goat farm, I arrive in my overalls, ready to kick the goats out of the barn—which is also entertaining—so we can rake soiled hay, shovel it into a wheelbarrow, wheel it on over to the compost pile, and repeat before spreading new bedding. I carry the full buckets—a great strength training move, especially for my aging bones. I sometimes set up the electric fence used to move the goats’ grazing area around the farm, if we’re moving it that day.

And then we walk the goats on leashes to their grazing pasture where they happily gnaw down the weeds while aerating the ground with their hooves. Walking the goats is my favorite part of the 2.5-hour shift. Holding multiple leashes, each one connected to a goat, isn’t easy—they’re like large, crazy, stubborn dogs—but it makes me smile every time.

My Dovetail overalls have served me well on the goat farm, but they’ve also inspired me to set my alarm for 6 a.m., hook them over my shoulders, and head out into my own backyard to peter around cutting back plants, raking leaves, and irrigating my garden as the sun comes up. I’ve put on my overalls, and a pair of Kahtoola Microspikes, to aerate my lawn like the goats in the fields, and spread weed and feed. (Crampons may not be as good as an actual aerator  for this job, but hey, I’m more gearhead than landscaper.)

Dare I say my overalls inspired me to sand and stain a picnic table—and they worked great for the job. My list of chores I plan to do in my overalls is growing. They inspire work. They inspire me to get shit done.

Sure, I could play homesteader in regular shorts or pants. I could work on the goat farm in other clothes. But, built for any job, my overalls make me work better, and more often.