I don’t know about the rest of you, but I wear my clothes until they absolutely wear out, or I can’t fit in them anymore. In which case, I eat less food because it’s cheaper than buying new clothes.

I’m proud to say I have blouses and . . . certain other personal undergarments . . . older than my 33-year-old second cousin. I am thrifty. It is a virtue currently not in vogue, but don’t get me started on CEOs on Wall Street.

Anyway, I’m grateful when my clothes develop holes, un-removable stains or some other unsightly blemish. This necessitates a trip to the consignment store where I can get six blouses for $10 and rid myself of well-seasoned attire. I get giddy just thinking about it.

Look, unless you’re incarcerated in the local poky (aka ‘the slammer’), being seen in the same clothes for 25 years is just so 18th century. The colonists could get away with one change of clothes, but that was 300 years ago.

My clothes and I have a nice understanding, except for me and the polar fleece. I know you’ve got some in your closet; the stuff is immortal and, like the cold virus, it’s everywhere. Bought my first polar fleece in 1980, still wearing it. Over the years I’ve accumulated five other polar fleeces from Polartec, all of them pre-date the H.W. Bush administration. They’ll be like cockroaches in a nuclear attack—the only other thing that survives.

I love my polar fleeces, but they are indestructible. I’d like to get some new ones but these simply won’t die. They don’t shrink, they won’t tear and thanks to my multicolored prints, I can’t find a visible stain.

I went online to find out what’s with this stuff. Did you know it’s made of oil? Its generic name is polar ‘fleece’. It’s polyester, which means it’s manmade and the ‘polar’ part in no way signifies Polar Bears had anything to do with its manufacture. My nephew, Anton, will be so disappointed. It repels water, it’s soft, warm, lightweight and since 1993 a key component has been . . . plastic bottles. Not all our trashed plastic bottles are used, only some of them. And plastic bottles are made from petroleum (aka oil). No wonder they don’t wear out; I’m wearing a fossil fuel made from dinosaurs who survived for 65 million years.

Okay, recycled plastic bottles are melted, then mixed with another petroleum product. The ‘liquid’ passes through teeny-tiny holes; it hardens into yarn; it’s dyed, wound on spools and knitted into polar fleece.

So, I decided to melt my unworn out Polartec. For my experiment, I applied fire to a piece of polar fleece. I expected to get plastic and a bunch of oil. I had high hopes, because there must be online do-it-yourself instructions on making gasoline. We’re talking about the worldwide web. People can learn to make nuclear weapons from going online. All I wanted to do was reclaim the oil from five Polartec sweaters and process it into gas for my car.

Everything went according to plan. The polar fleece melted, but into an infinitesimal shiny, black, gummy-edged piece of plastic way too small and hard for me to squeeze any oil from. Believe me I tried.

But I haven’t given up yet. This could be something a small entrepreneur like myself wouldn’t have enough capital or equipment to pursue on a commercial scale. Maybe if I got some stimulus money…

Cohea, a freelance writer, can be reached by e-mailing a37_tao@hotmail.com.