Faded, Frayed & Fab: My Life in Jeans
Stories only denim can tell
Today’s teens think jeans are dressy. It’s a hangover from Covid pajama-wear since they were attending school from their beds for over a year.
Every morning at school drop off, I see scores of kids headed to the doors swimming in sweats so oversized that they need to be folded over at the waist. Ironically, that look used to be a deep embarrassment— a tell that you were a hand-me-down kid wearing your older siblings’ pants. Now, it’s a trend. Go figure.
Gray sweats look like gray sweats look like gray sweats.
These kids are lacking style in a major way. Whereas high-school-me used to neurotically write my outfit of the day on my wall calendar to avoid repeating too soon, no one would ever be able to distinguish kids’ outfits today unless they spilled something on themselves. The endless parade of heather gray or black cotton hoodies is reminiscent of prison inmates marching, identically clad, and I can't stop thinking that these kids are missing out on photo ops that will place them in the time and space of very formative, awkward, and later-cherished childhood memories.
So, I have decided to tell my life story through the lens of denim.
Toughskins were my first. I was five.
I hated them. They came from a Sears catalogue and they were thick and stiff. My mom ironed a center pleat down each leg. My brother made fun of me for not fitting into the same “slim” size as him, even though I was two years older. The knees were reinforced, and I would rather have worn anything else, even a dress. Back then, jeans were considered very casual, and mom generally didn’t allow them for school. Sweatpants didn’t exist as far as I know. I was not off to a strong start with dungarees.
In 6th grade, I received a pair of jeans with floral print baked into the denim. I loved them more than any article of clothing I ever had before. They felt stylish and sophisticated, but they were very identifiable, so I could only wear them once a week. I didn’t want to be like Heather Hampelmeyer who legitimately wore the exact same jeans to school every day and I only know because they had a stain in the shape of New Jersey on the back of her left ankle. By the end of the week, those jeans could walk around on their own.
In junior high school, I cried with relief when “Santa” brought me a pair of two-tone jeans. I desperately felt the need to keep up with the trends and these babies were it. Just like my straddle between being childhood and adolescence, these jeans were the best of both worlds and I wore them as often as my calendar would allow—including on every weekend trip to the mall.
Early high school brought on acid wash. They felt edgy and rebellious. The “burn-outs” seemed to have the most acid-y of the acid washed, and I side-eyed them as I hurried past their smoking klatch by the side doors of the school gym. They and their jeans looked like they could kick anyone’s ass.
High-waisted pleated jeans came next and were accompanied by huge hair set in clouds of Aqua Net aerosol spray. The mean girls seemed to rotate the best pairs between them, always with a crop top and white Keds sneakers. They had to be Keds, too, with the blue label on the back. Those dollar-store knock-offs would never do. We couldn’t afford brand new Keds whenever I wanted them, so we’d spray them down and toss them in the washing machine every other month until my big toe poked through and rendered them unwearable.
In the middle of high school I became obsessed with triangles. Specifically the triangle on the back pocket of Guess jeans. I begged, pleaded, and bargained but still never got a pair. My parents refused based on expense. So, I coveted Gina’s. She had several pairs and they fit her figure perfectly. Of course it didn’t hurt that she was 6” taller than me and a school track star. When Gina came strutting down the hall with her blue eyelashes and those Guess jeans, you could almost hear the coming of age movie soundtrack in the background as the boys dropped like flies.
By the time I hit college, we were all baring our midriffs year round and wearing baggy jeans with sneakers or combat boots. This look was my jam. Sometimes I threw on a beret or a cabbie hat just to spice things up as we headed out to dance the night away to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch and House of Pain. I had a sick crush on Eric Nies from MTV’s Real World, but also on my college neighbor who passive-aggressively wrote cryptic notes to me on the whiteboard hanging on our dorm room door. I like to think I’m the one who got away.
Post college was a revolution in jeans. Lycra was being added to denim blends and suddenly jeans fit my curves in all the right ways. I felt like Janet Jackson in the Pleasure Principle video. I specifically remember shopping with my pal in Bloomingdales and not caring what the price tag said because my dressing room silhouette was priceless. I wore out those jeans until they became threadbare and buttonless. My world of denim would never be the same.
My first New Year’s Eve with my then boyfriend (now husband) was spent in a pair of dirty-washed Todd Oldham jeans in a teensy size 2. They fit like they were painted on—they’re probably how I got him to marry me. Unlike most pants, I didn’t have to alter the waist or the length. They were made for me. I found them on the sale rack at Barney’s, and I was simply thrilled to have afforded even one thing at Barney’s ever in my life. I still have those jeans. I can’t get even one leg into them, much less two, but I leave them hanging in my closet. Sometimes I visit with them like an old friend.
Low rise skinny jeans began taking over right around the time I was trying to lose the baby weight from my first pregnancy. I felt personally called out. Some of those waistbands were so low, thong straps were visible. And they came in every color of the rainbow! I hate ultra low-rise anything with a fiery passion, but I do sort of like the concept of skinny jeans since they make it easy to pull on Uggs without all that extra fabric cramping your ankle. This trend lasted way longer than it should’ve if you ask me. And I’m glad the muffin tops are no longer on display.
As low-rise skinnies went out, higher rise boot-cuts came back for a hot minute. They didn’t last long or become widely adopted. Distressed skinnies competed with them and then ushered in looser boyfriend jeans. And also girlfriend jeans. And mom jeans. To be honest, I don’t know the difference and probably no one else does either. Just pick one and hope for the best.
Covid happened and jeans sales dropped off. (I have no data on this, but common sense says I’m probably right.) The world went heavy into athleisure. Lululemon and their ilk came out of the pandemic fist-pumping like a global catastrophe was the greatest sales boon ever… because it sorta of was. We had bigger things to think about during covid than denim—like which grocery store would deliver and if I had enough sanitizer to wipe down all my mail.
But jeans are making a strong comeback now.
Not your mom’s jeans.
Not the denim of my youth.
No triangles or tight ankles or unfortunate pleats.
Soft, almost sweatpants-feel jeans. Jeans that give you a little room to breathe… or eat… or eat and breathe. And maybe sleep if you binge too much Netflix and pass out.
I just bought a pair from American Eagle and I have to admit, they’re delicious to wear. Soft, loose, and with a high enough rise to handle my midlife… situation. Maybe they’re not the sexiest, but I’m 51 and I work from home. I want clothes that don’t squish and pinch me while I’m sedentary af writing essays about jeans. Know what I mean?
If you want a pair, too, here’s a non-affiliate link. Size down because they stretch as you wear them. Go on, love your life, love your jeans, ditch the elastic waistbands for a minute.
Kids today need to get back to jeans. They offer us a snapshot into trends and moments of teen angst and questionable decisions. Jeans are a veritable time capsule. Sweats are not. Plus, the sweats trend has been going on for five years now.
I’m bored by it.
Aren’t you?
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Hey, I get it. You may love my stuff but not be into the subscription thing. You can show your support by buying me a chocolate croissant. After all, my jeans are baggy now—more room for bakery delights.
Well, obviously I’m behind behind behind the times and I’m behind my torn jeans that I love because they’re soft and comfy cozy and they stretch!
So sue me.
I’m ahead of the times of maybe 25 years or so … and that’s good enough for me. ;)
Thanks for the trip down memory lane!