Fashion Thursday: The Cure to my 8 Year Search for Jeans

So Fashion Thursday on Anything Goes Friday. Do you see how this still works? Okay, okay I am late but it is better me being late than you. Oh how I remember saying that a fair few times before.

Anyway….

So call me fussy but it took me 8 years to find a pair of jeans I actually liked and then of course I spend a fortune in one day. Such is life. Maybe it is because I have a certain style that I change for no one. So when these fashions do change I have to wait for the next generation of me to come back round.  

At the moment it seems to be coloured jeans; red, purple and pink. What the....? I thought Levis established a rule back in the good old days. If jeans are not a shade of blue then they are not jeans. How many cowboys have you ever seen in red, purple or pink? You would look more ridiculous than Michael J Fox in Back to the Future III. If you own a pair of jeans in these colours then you do look more ridiculous than Michael J Fox in Back to the Future III. (Although, my mate does look particularly dashing in his bright reds.)

Then you have those skinny jeans; or as I call them “The Castrators”. Seriously who came up with this idea? A man hating woman who wanted to take every man’s balls in her hand and crush them. Well if so then she succeeded. I remember trying a pair on; Diesel was the brand I believe. First I pulled them over my feet; no problem there. Yet when I pulled them up they stuck to my legs as if they were drenched; it reminded me of being at school learning to swim in my pyjamas. I always loved that, swimming in water in what you wear to bed. It was comforting, the combination of two very soothing parts of life. Nowadays I call it skinny dipping.

Anyway, where was I, oh yes pulling the trousers up. As they got higher they got tighter and tighter and with one final pull I had the thought, “This is what it must be like to be in labour”. Probably not even close yet it is a pain no man should have to endure. To say I felt winded would be an understatement. To say I wanted to vomit would be the truth. I only had them on for a split second and I thought any dreams of having children one day were quickly disappearing. How do people wear these Castrators all day long?

Then there is all the choice; slim fitted, loose fitted, yield loose jeans, straight fit, straight loose fit, tapered fit, straight loose slim tapered fit and I am completely lost just typing this. So just imagine how confused I am when stood in a department store looking at all of these? Where do you even start?

If I have not tried them all then I must be close. I have looked like a gangsta rapper in the baggy or like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever with jeans looking flared when they definitely were not supposed to be flared. I have looked from the ridiculous to the sublimely ridiculous. I tried ripped jeans but I was uncomfortable showing that much leg; I am a classy type of gal you know. I have tried a lot of brands, so many brands; Ralph Lauren, G-Star Raw, Jack & Jones, Diesel, Bench and so many more.

I needed help; help is the key. Get help. Ask for help. My cure to my clueless searching was asking the right store assistant for help. I emphasise the right store assistant here; you have to filter out all the ones that just don’t care, those ones that would rather chat the day away with their colleagues and those ones that look at you as if you are ruining their day by even speaking to them. You need to find that one who is happy to help and who is happy to throw their ideas at you with enthusiastic cheer. I got help.

The girl I asked was amazing, she works in House of Fraser and she took one look at me and took me to where I needed to be. The section that is known as Replay, which was quite apt as I had been there before. She asked what I liked, I told her and then she picked out 5 pairs, all of different shades of blue before leading the way to the changing rooms, ordered me inside a cubicle and waited for the fashion show to commence.

I questioned why the sizes all differed; the waist varied from UK 32 to 36 and she said “wait and see”. I went for a larger pair and they fit perfectly. I was impressed, she acknowledged her skills with a nod. “Next” she said. I went for the 36s again and the result was the same and again came the command but I hesitated. All the others were smaller than the first 2 I had tried on and I complained that they would not fit, that they would jeopardise my manhood. But she remained strong in command; a command that I followed.

I went for the 34s first and they fit perfectly too and then the 32s and they did too. I was shocked. I asked how the hell this could be and she explained that some jeans are washed and worked with more by the manufacturers depending on their colour. Who knew? I always assumed that when they said the size on the tag that a size would be what it said on the tag.

This girl who works in House of Fraser is clearly a genius, not only teaching me about how best to wrap my bum she got me to spend a pretty sum.