I’ve always been a modest lad, if I do say so myself. Which is why I’d never say I’m smarter than that famous part-time resident of My Home Town, Albert Einstein, even though it could be true.

Me, the Dope, smarter than Einstein? How can that be?

Simple.

While he may have formulated the Relativity of Time, he never came up with The Relativity of Wool Pants. But I did.

And what, you ask, is The Relativity of Wool Pants?

First, some necessary background.

The race is to the thrift

If there’s a trinity in my life, it’s wool, bargains, and thrift shops.

First the wool. When I say wool, I mean only 100 percent premium wool. I am not referring to wool/poly mixes or low-grade and reprocessed wool.

Why no wool/poly?

Because of the polyester, wool/poly itches less. It’s also less warm and less breathable. Therefore it’s not as comfortable in either cold or warm weather.

Why no low-grade or reprocessed wool?

If you have to ask that, you are obviously doomed to a life of fleece and the like.

But while premium all-wool garments are superior to any other combination, they have one big drawback – they’re very expensive. And that brings me to the second and third parts of my trinity — bargains and thrift shops: It’s in the thrift shops that I get the bargains on wool. And believe me, I have. Pendleton shirts, Aran sweaters, Scottish scarves, Harris tweeds – you name ’em, I’ve copped ’em, and at pennies on the dollar.

There’s only one drawback with thrift shops: You never know what you’ll score … or not. It’s not like you can go into one wanting something specific. Or if you do and it’s not there, you can’t blame the thrift shop. Or if it is there, you can’t blame the thrift shop because it’s not your size … or color … or anything else. That’s just the breaks of the game. And when it comes to thrift shopping, either you like to play the game or you don’t. Suffice it to say, I do.

And let me clarify something. Whether I find a bargain or not is irrelevant. To me, it’s fun just to make the trip. But if I do score big, that’s a real treat. And last week, at Go Fish, I scored big!

—

The big score

They have a huge selection of stuff, all in good shape, and all costing a couple of bucks, at most. Actually, let me modify that: almost all of it costs only a couple of bucks. They have a premium rack which has very high-end clothes and whose prices are not of the single digit ilk. But even then, though the prices might be high in comparison to their other wares, they’re still ridiculously cheap for what you’re getting. I always glance at the premium rack, but have never seen anything I wanted … till last week.

I was leaving after batting .000 for the day, when I checked out the premium rack and saw something I’ve never seen in a thrift shop. There were two pairs of Johnson Woolen Mills Adirondack pants, one pair in excellent condition, the other pair unworn.

If you don’t know those pants, they’re super-heavy wool and they were called Malone Pants, because they were originally made in the Ballard Mill in Malone. They’re black, with thin green and red intersecting stripes, and as heavy a pair of wool pants as you’ll ever find. I have several pairs of wool pants, but none are that heavy or in that good condition.

First I checked the size – 36. Then I checked the price – $30.

I wear 34s, but my friend and genius seamstress Sylvia Cecunjanin could easily alter them.

But the price? Thirty simoleons?

Back in the ’70s, I bought a pair of Malone pants in Wilson’s, and as I recalled, they cost $40. And now Go Fish is charging $30?

I thought about it a bit and finally said forget it. First, I really didn’t need them, and second, they just seemed too pricey for my bargain-hunter’s psyche. Sure, I could afford them, but what kind of deal were they, really?

Later that night I found out.

—

Theories and theoreticians

I checked out Johnson Mills’ website and it was quite the learning experience. Those pants now cost $220!

Yep, that’s not a typo – Two-hundred and twenty dollars. Or if you prefer it in old-time terms – that’s 22 sawbucks.

And it was then that I came up with the The Relativity of Wool Pants theory.

Sure, I paid 40 bucks for them forty years ago. But given inflation, cost of living, and the increased value of fine wool, the $40 paid then is probably equal to $200 today — at least.

Go Fish is open only on Wednesdays and Saturdays, from 10:00 to 2:00. I’d seen those pants on Wednesday. On 10:00 Saturday I was standing on their doorstep, with three 20 dollar bills in my hot little liver-spotted hand. A few minutes later I left, clutching two pairs of Johnson Mills pants.

It was a decision that becomes more brilliant the more the mercury dips toward zero and below.

And of course buying them was based on my coming up with the Relativity of Wool Pants, of which I’m rightly proud.

But when I think of it, maybe I was being too harsh on Einstein for not coming up with it first. After all, he was a summer resident only, so maybe he shouldn’t have known about wool and wool pants.

Then again, given the old-time cold Adirondack summers and his rep, maybe he should have.