I had the perfect blue jeans, once. They were used when I got them. They had just reached that beautiful stage of 'broken in' and I didn't even have to do the work to get them there. Unfortunately this also meant that their life expectancy was short, at best, and of course the original store no longer stocked them (since they were perfect). I wore them constantly, until they shredded into cutoffs and then less than cutoffs, and then one day I looked for them in my closet and all I found was a small pile of faded blue thread.
Actually I threw them out before they completely disintegrated.
And now I am on the hunt, once again, for the perfect pair of jeans. You know, the kind that make you feel slim and tall and sexy (even when you are not); the go-to jeans that never let you down when all of your other clothes are, suddenly and inexplicably, ugly. The kind you can dress up with heels for evenings out, and dress down with tank tops for Monday mornings. You could wear them on a roadtrip and never notice, they're so comfortable.
(Do they even exist? you may very well ask. And while we're at it, what is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything?)
Despite the fact that this kind of 'hunt' is best accomplished if you actually go to a store (or All The Stores), and try on a pair or two (or All The Pairs) - and is subsequently exhausting and disheartening and often futile - I am looking online. I'd prefer to order All The Wrong Jeans and then return All The Wrong Jeans than to live through another shopping spree like this. Ever. Again.
With Anyone. (I'm just going to throw that in, for any of my girlfriends who may be reading this. Don't ask me to go jean shopping with you. I will refuse.)
But (surprise, surprise) I'm not having much luck.
At this point in my life, all I want is a normal looking pair of jeans. That's not asking too much, is it? Yes! It IS! They don't make normal jeans anymore. They make things that go with descriptions like this one: These super-sexy-super-skinny-super-low-strategically-holey-acid-washed-primarily-elastine-bleached-cigarrete pants - with five pockets! (they say this like I should be impressed) are perfect for a Nashville rock look when combined with your studded leather biker jacket and five-inch heels!
Well terrific. I will buy them just as soon as I join a biker gang or turn into Keith Urban.
And the models? Really? Is it also too much to ask that they stand in fairly normal positions when modeling the pants? Yes! It IS! Because clearly I will want to buy them even more if they are posing erotically with a shiny Ken-doll man (who, incidentally, is wearing the same pants)! To think, my new Perfect Jeans may someday be on the cover of a cheap romance novel. Of course, this would be the ultimate affirmation to me that I have, in fact, bought the correct item.
Other poses that will make me buy your jeans:
Knees-in, Calves-out, Point-the-right-toe Pose. I don't know how else to describe this, but no one in their right mind stands like that. If I get in a car accident and am permanently disfigured in this exact position, then I will consider buying your pants. Although how I will put them on in the first place is beyond me.
The High-Knee Crossover Pose. I mean, do you have to pee? If I put my left leg down, are these pants still going to look like pants?
The Scissor-Walk Pose. No one else in The Whole World has legs as long as you, I get it. You win. So could you please just direct me to the jeans that will go to my hips, not my chin? I'll buy a shirt for that, thanks.
The Shirt Pose. I'm sorry, I know this isn't about your shirt - but if you are going to stretch it way out to the left like that, then I probably won't even notice your jeans. I'm much too interested in what you're going to do after you let go, and half your shirt is hanging down to your ankles while the other half is still crop-top.
The Booty Pose. You are unbelievably sexy, yes - but I will actually need to see the front of your pants at some point. I know you think it's unnecessary, but I'd like to know they actually have a front before I purchase them.
The Tricky Pose. I'm just saying, some of these look tricky enough to be painful. Here's a little tip from me to you: if you're standing in a position that makes you look like you have a hernia, I don't want your pants.
While I'm on the topic, I have two final requests.
1) I think I'd stand a better chance of finding the perfect jeans if, in your product descriptions, you did not find it necessary to use any of the following words:
Whiskered. (Are we referring to the various lines primarily fanning out from the zipper? Good thinking. Because it's every girls dream to have whiskers like that, there.)
Rodeo. (Are you going to throw in a free pair of stirrups? They don't have to be new; just give me the ones you used to do that whisker thing.)
Surprise Rhinestones. (Imagine that. And, why?)
Curious. (Yes. I've seen this.)
Foil. (Whatever that means.)
Could you please refrain from writing 'Congratulations! Free Shipping For You!!!!!' (like it's a lucky, undeserved bonus) next to the product that will (presumably) take half a lifetime to find and then cost $500 (as well as my arm and leg and firstborn child)? I want the free shipping, I do, but really.
It's the least you could do.