I hate jeans.
I said it.
Second only to "I hate Bruce Springsteen, hot dogs, fireworks, and partisan politics," there is no statement more decidedly un-American. It's the sort of opinion that makes people look at you as though you've got a penis sticking out of your forehead: Fascination co-mingled with abject disgust. I might as well confess to being a KGB operative or, worse still -- French.
But it's true. I hate them. I hate the way they look, I hate the way they feel, I hate their ubiquity, and the lame way they pretend to still be "folksy" and "of the people." Whatever guys. Kings wear jeans.
Most of all, I hate that no matter what I do, I can't change any of those things. Jeans are here to stay. They remain, in my closet and the universe, the Kim Jong-un of the world of casual-wear. Nobody dares defies them. And also they are inexplicably fond of Dennis Rodman.
Admittedly this is all because I look terrible in jeans. I am built like a busty spider. I've got a round middle and limbs wee enough they appear to have atrophied. I'm also short like whoa. This is not a body made for jeans. They are all too long in the leg and too short in the crotch. I wind up looking like someone's mom or like Bruce Banner two seconds before someone makes him angry.
Have you ever really looked at how jeans fit other people? Nobody looks good. Not really. I hate that at-the-hip distressing is a thing. It makes us all look like we need a cigarette, followed by a coffee, followed by several hours in the bathroom with a crossword puzzle if you follow my drift. If you don't: Yo, you look mad constipated.
Not even hotties with bodies are immune. You know how to make a sexy lady look unsexy? Turn her legs into vacuum packed sausages. It ain't just her gams that are hard done by -- nobody's front bottom is immune from the perils of camel-toe.
Ladies: We Come With Camel-Toes Because of Nature. Let us not accentuate this fact by donning garb designed to lift and separate things that very much shouldn't be lifted and separated. I see someone in too tight jeans approaching and the wind whispers, not Mary, but Yeast Infection.
Why do jeans have to be the go-to for daily casual wear? Why? They are uncomfortable, they require "breaking in." You know what doesn't require breaking in? ALMOST ALL OTHER TYPES OF PANTS THAT EXIST BECAUSE THAT IS INSANE. We aren't olde tyme prospectors panning for gold -- why are we dressing like we are? I hate that jeans are now de rigueur in offices, with magazines being all "formal denim"! You know what is inherently informal? DENIM.
Buying jeans is such a process, too. I hate it so much I once panicked and settled for a pair of maternity jeans (#yoloetc). Mostly people just find a brand that doesn't appear to give the impression that their ass is just continually expanding and cling to it for dear life. Fashion is about risk-taking. Denim is the antithesis of that.
Jeans are a lie. They say you are pulled together and laid-back. "Jeans and a suit jacket! It's sharp!" It absolutely is not. The truth such an ensemble actually whispers is this: You are bored. You are boring. And you can't be bothered. You know what says this and makes no bones about it? Sweatpants. I'd rather we dropped the pretense and everyone just let it all hang out, bleach-stained sweaties-style.
To close: I'd rather fanny about the office in 18 different pairs of Chico's-style genie-looking pants (and have) than one pair of jeans.
Are you for or against denim? PICK CAREFULLY.
Image via Johan J. Ingles-Le Nobel/Flickr