The Denim Slipper

I’ve been on a hunt for new jeans. Seems that my much loved jean maker has changed their shape, and they no longer fit me (Could I have changed my shape? Me? After two kids? And approximately 1300 bowls of ice cream? Perish the thought). So I’ve been trying on jeans left and right, to find that they gap in the back or pull at the thighs or have the right shape but the wrong color. Which leads me to make the following suggestions:

1) Please, jean-makers, standardize your sizes. Preferably to the brand where I’m a 0. Which is a whole lot less thrilling when you find out they carry a 00. Because, apparently, you can have less than nothing.

2) Also, while you’re at it, standardize your details. For some reason, flare cut is now a bell bottom, where my leg ends up looking like an hourglass, my knee unbendable at the tight middle and my ankle swimming in what looks to be a fashionable denim skirt for the calf. Boot cut is now flare, and straight leg means I’m going to suction onto your leg so you bear an unsettling resemblance to a chicken drumstick. Whatever happened to plain old pants?

3) Give me a chance to wear in my denim. I fail to see why I’m paying exorbitant amounts of money for jeans with tears, holes, stains, and whiskers. Is this some sort of conspiracy to take vintage jeans, re-tag them, and resell them at four times the price?

I still hold out hope that I’ll find that perfect pair. In the meantime, I’m just wearing my usual suspects over and over again. At least I know the distressed look is still in style.

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