Jeans Theory

Nothing fits quite like a good pair of jeans.

For those of you that know me well, you know that I have a certain unique history with jeans. In the beginning, jeans were salient as a void, a complete absence from my wardrobe. My first pair was purchased when I was 13, reluctantly, as my experiences with them previously were scratchy, stiff, and thoroughly unenjoyable. This first pair did not defy my expectations as they were all I hoped they would not be, purchased from a sale rack at Winners, under the stark, bright glare of fluorescent lighting and pessimism. How I longed for the comforts of soft, pliant, ankle-cinched sweatpants! So why, you might ask, were they purchased? As in many things: to be accepted by my peers.

Fast forward many years and many jeans later, and the twin themes of acceptance and jeans would be intertwined again, unexpectedly, on the toilet. The possibilities of jeans became even further realized after a rather lengthy bowel movement, when I noticed that my sister had left some interesting reading material nearby (incidently, the majority of books I have read within the past 5 years have come from similar scenarios). The title of this book was The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, an enthralling, if extremely feminine moniker. Being never one to shy away from my feminine side (e.g., choice of career), I learned over multiple bathroom sessions and eventually multiple sequels, that this story is essentially about a cadre of young women, who are drawn together by a pairs of jeans that miraculously fit their bevy of body sizes. This particular pair not only reinforces their friendship over time and distance, but eventually redefines their relationships to each other. It inspired my own, failed but brave attempt to encourage a similar strengthening of my friendship bonds, The Travelling Scrapbook:

I’ve come to realize now, upon searching for a meaningful relationship, that jeans have again resurfaced as a strong metaphor for my quest. With the help of my unerring friend, Sid, an odd synergy between relationships and jeans has emerged. 

Consider fit. Jeans either fit or they do not. Some would argue that there are varying degrees of fit, indeed, that is the primary responsibility of the salesperson, to calm the persistent doubts of fit, dancing on the fringes of your mind. It’ll stretch out. New jeans need some time to be broken in, they’ll look amazing on you. I contend that you just know if a particular jean is right for you. Standing in the changing room mirror, there’s a feeling of pleasant déjà vu; you almost wonder how this pair of jeans escaped your closet, and became an imposter at this store. They sit perfectly at the hip, they move fluidly with you, they bring out the best in your features, and like a good friend, hide the worst of your lower body transgressions. It’s the same with people, especially life-partner-people. There’s a certain initial fit that’s impossible to manufacture, a felt-sense that you two belong, and have been waiting to belong up until this moment. No amount of post-hoc rationalizing, with friend or retail professional, will ever replicate this feeling if the fit is just not there. It is there or it is not. Now that’s not to say that certain, more ill-fitting pairs of jeans cannot be purchased, worn, and garner a certain level of respect and fondness. Just without that initial fit, these other jeans will have a lower, if perfectly respectable ceiling. They can be friends, co-workers, flings, depending on the branding, and the cut. They can never however, be THE pair, the go-to pair when you want to dazzle, the comfortable pair when you want to cuddle, the pair that you cannot bear to let go, regardless of how threadbare.

Let us turn to style. Jeans come in an amazing variety of styles. For example, not many things get better after being washed in acid or similarly “distressed.” They can be skinny or straight, relaxed or rhinestoned, boot-cut or bell-bottomed; jeans can be Guessed, GAP’ed, and Gucci’ed, they can be Wrangled by white, ex-quarterbacks or just look wrong if worn by someone who is not For Us By Us (Us, definitely not including skinny Asian dudes). How does one navigate this plethora of pants? By staying true to oneself. I, personally, would look horridly uncomfortable in a pair of designer jeans, drastically distressed, tight in areas that need to be loose, and looking as if shrapnel had tastefully exploded into skull shaped patterns over my butt. Much more my style is a pair of relaxed fit, dark wash, mildly patterned Express jeans, suitable for clubbing, shopping, and impromptu balling. Maybe I might have tried the trendier jean when I was younger, and still looking for my jean-mate. It was only with repeated shopping attempts, with different labels and different cuts did I determine what worked for me. Now I’m focused on my style and am comfortable with all the styles that are ill-suited. It is thus with partner selection. Only with comfort in oneself and knowledge of the characteristics of what one is looking for can the search for a partner truly begin. There is still lots of value in trying on those other styles, dating those other types of people; but at this stage of the game, the archetype should be coming into focus. I’m sure we can all relate to noticing a elderly lady with a pair of pants, or the graying guy with a girlfriend, who are similarly trying to evoke their youth. Sometimes you just have to give up on the bellbottoms.  

This brings me to a third point in this analogy: Jeans age well. Over time, wearing your favourite pair of jeans is like wearing nothing at all. You and Jeans, Jeans and You, Yeans, Jou; they become one and the same. There is a comfort unlike any other in wearing those jeans because over time those jeans become uncomfortable for anyone else. They fit you exactly. It causes extreme discomfort to consider them on someone else’s body. You jealously guard your jeans from over-washing. You defend them when they begin to lose their lustre, a hole might appear in one knee, fraying gradually creeps up the ankle, blue becomes light-blue, becomes white-blue. The hole adds panache. People pay a lot of money for pre-holed jeans! It doesn’t matter what others tell you, you love your jeans all the same. At the same time you know you must take care of these jeans, because they longer you have them, the more precious they become. So you patch them up, you wash them inside-out, or not at all. Eventually however, there comes a day when you realize that that perfect pair of jeans, my jeans!  have had their last wearing and you place them, lovingly, in a special place in your closet, and a special place in your heart. And whenever the discussion turns to jeans, your voice will reverberate with the memory of them. The perfect pair. Irreplaceable. Yours forever.