Clothes tell stories. Especially the ones that have lived with you for a long time, like this pair of denim jeans that Amy bought in highschool.Read More
It’s funny what a pair of jeans can do. A good pair of denim can transform your entire outlook about life. They can also transform your ass from a D- to an A+.
I firmly believe that jeans are the wardrobe’s Tom Hanks.They’re solid, no matter the plot — when all other items forsake you, you know they’ll be there, ready to give an award-worthy performance.
If you’ve yet to experience this from a pair of indigo-dyed pants, I plead for you to not give up. Just like true love, I promise the perfect pair exists. Some of us find our denim soulmate in our teens, others go decades before discovering the idyllic fit.
I found mine at 21, when I inherited my mom’s 1979 Jordache flares.
I’d had my eye on them since I was a teenager, but I had to wait until my waist-to-hip ratio got a little more “womanly” before I could zip up their uncommonly long zipper. (I also had to have them hemmed about six inches as I’m still waiting to inherit my mother’s height… I think it might be time to call it.)
Perhaps it’s silly to put so much stock in a pair of jeans, but I remember the incredible feeling I had when I first wore my beloved pants. It felt like the world was finally seeing the real me — and not just because they’re scandalously tight. I felt confident, empowered and ready to take on anything.
Six years later, I still feel that way.
When I’m nervous about a meeting, lack the confidence for a date night or just need a little silent encouragement, I slip into those well-worn flares. It’s almost weird how much of an extension of me they’ve become. They’re my go-to’s.
Maybe it’s because they hold such a deeply personal history: I envision my mom rocking the hell out of them post-high school, going on dates with my dad or stepping into her first college art class. And I imagine they gave her the same comfort they’ve brought me… Or maybe I’ve watched the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants too many times.
Either way, these jeans rock. And I pray to the denim gods that they last long enough for me to pass them on to the next generation.
PS. We’d love to hear your jean’s love story! If you’d like to share, send it along with some pics to email@example.com with the subject “Denim Diary.”