Shopping for jeans sucks.
Shopping for jeans sucks. Yesterday was my mom’s last day in town before hopping on a plane back to Alaska. After dropping off my aunt and uncle at the airport, she had a few hours to blow. She asked me if there was anything else I needed before she left. I informed her that I was in desperate need of a new pair of jeans. It’s become somewhat of a yearly tradition to hunt for jeans with my mother because it’s a chore that I would never be able to handle without a support system.
When I was a kid, I can’t lie, I kind of loved shopping for clothes. I’m sure my dad probably thought there was something fishy about that. It was just so easy before age 12. Everything was a simple S, M, L. There were no waist sizes, inseam lengths, fits, washes, material choices, finishes, or other various douchities to worry about. Plus, before age 12, my wardrobe consisted mostly of Zubaz pants and various athletic team tees and sweatshirts.
By the time I was old enough to give up on zebra striped trailer rapist attire and move onto jeans, jeans were extremely easy to shop for. The first pair of jeans I distinctly remember shopping for were made by Cross Colours. Cross Colours, as far as I remember, had jeans that came in S, M, L, XL. The pair I got were black with a red back pocket, a green black pocket, and two big ass yellow patches on the knee, and they were way too big for me. At age 12 I had no idea that these were Afro-centric colors, and didn’t realize how unintentionally ironic I looked wearing them. I also didn’t know I looked like Snow, dressed as Bozo the clown, as an extra in an Another Bad Creation video. I just thought that I kinda looked like the rappers I loved.
After Cross Colours came the JNCO craze. This was when my generation began dressing just to piss their parents off. There was truly no benefit to wearing pants that used the fact they had “27” cuffs” as a selling point. I’ll be honest, I had a ton of JNCO’s between the 7th and 9th grade. I was an early adopter with them even, pretty sure I was among the first kids at my school with them. I remember actually being somewhat distraught when I realized that they were becoming pants made strictly for burnouts, juggalos, hackey sackers, and future burning man attendees. I just thought they made me look rebellious, like the dirty guys that Cher hates in Clueless.
When I had finally developed enough of my own personal style to start worrying about all the variables that go along with shopping for jeans I realized I hated shopping for them. First you have to figure out a brand. Lee’s? Too obvious. Carhart? Too working class. Wranglers? Too hick. Arizona’s? Too generic. Calvin Klein? Too fem. Obscure Japanese streetwear denim? Too expensive. Ed Hardy? Yeah fucking right. My choice? Levi’s. They are classic, and they have a lot of different fits. You’re bound to find something right? Sometimes right.
Yesterday my trip to find jeans consisted of me hitting up three different stores that sell Levi’s, only to find each one with less stock than the last store. Apparently the holidays raped the Levi’s supply of Southern California. I’m a pretty average sized guy (sample size in most clothing companies even). I’m 6’ even, weigh anywhere between 190 and 210 lbs depending on my degree of laziness at the time. I have roughly a 34” waist. Logic would say I would be easy to shop for. Problem is I have stringent tastes and a very strong anti-douche pant instinct.
My current fit of choice with Levi’s is the 511 skinny jean. In my opinion, they fit how adult jeans should fit without looking as painted on as the name would suggest. The problem with Levi’s is every pair fits a little different. I can be anywhere from a 33x30 to a 34x32” depending on the pants (sometimes I won’t be able to get a 33” buttoned, other times a 33” will be falling off my ass). I have an order of criteria that jeans must fit for me to try them on. It goes in this order: cut (511), wash (preferably dark with little to no fading, as close to raw looking as possible….but definitely no holes, purposeful wrinkling, pre fades in certain areas, or other assorted bits of douchery), then comes size. If I can get that far (cut, wash, size), I then eliminate other stragglers by traits like excessive pocketry, extraneous stitching color, inclusion of spandex, etc. Simply put: I’m picky.
Yesterday was tough. I could find my cut, I could find tolerable washes, but every other person my size in West LA had already gotten the jump on me size wise. It’s frustrating as fuck to find a pair of jeans you would wear only to find out the store only has them in 26x40.” Who the fuck are those pants made for? Manute Bol? Not to mention no one at department stores ever puts things back in their place. There was a pile of jeans on a rolling rack that probably had about 60 pairs of unfolded jeans on it. No way am I digging through that shit. I get cold sweats and swass/swalls trying on clothes as is, I’m not trying to do someone else’s job and work up more of a sweat at the same time.
Long story short, I ended up buying a pair of jeans. They do not fit my “excessive pocketry” criteria, but I’ll deal with it. It took me a lot of painstaking digging and elimination, and trying on the same pair in multiple sizes until they were acceptable. I will wear them the fuck out until they have a cigarette pack outline in one pocket and a cell phone outline in the other, and then it’ll be back to Macy’s. Fight the good fight my average sized brethren, and good shopping to all.
Sidenote: fuck all you rap dudes that say “fuck skinny jeans.” Grow up and realize that your 569’s don’t make you look “hip hop,” they make you look homeless. Your inability to adapt to changes in denim styles directly correlates to your inability to adapt and sell records.
