Walk Like a Cowboy

I stopped buying blue jeans when I was 16 years old. I was done with them. I didn't need 'em.

Growing up, I had worn many pairs of denim pants. The seed of my disdain for them was planted early on. One of my earliest childhood memories is of shopping for jeans at the 1/2 Price Store. My mom made me try on several pairs. The ones I liked were "too long in the crotch" for Mom's taste, and the ones she liked were unbearably stiff and rough. "They'll break in after I wash them," she promised. Yeah, right. I guess they must have, but over the years, both conceptually and practically, jeans never got any more comfortable.

They never got any more cool-looking, either. As I became more fashion-conscious, I became more and more at-odds with those who provided my jeans. "Stylistic differences" led to my not wearing jeans baggy enough to meet my cool quota. Crotch-length (or "rise" as it is called in the industrty) was always an issue; to this day I'm not sure why. I was stuck with skinny, low-rise jeans when the rest of the civilized world was wearing baggy, comfortable-looking pants. By my 16th birthday, I had rebelled.

I walked away from jeans at that age. The pockets were much too small for my hands and keys. They were always exposing the waistband of my BVDs when I sat. The bottoms of the legs never fit over my shoes--cuffs that rest above one's hightops and not around them is the mark of a true dork, and as a homeschooler, I was already handicapped in the dork department and didn't need any help from stupid pants. And khakis were so much more comfortable! Those were some pants that fit my style (I was going for sport-prep/Asian/skateboarder in high school). I got a lot of questions about why I didn't wear 'em, and, eventually, a lot of crap from the likes of Caitlin O'Hannon and other jeans-enthusiasts, too.

Then one day my then-girlfriend complimented one of my guy friends on some jeans he was wearing. I noticed 'em, too. They did look kinda good, in their own way. This got me thinking, and opened my mind to the Possibility of Jeans. Months later, I found a pair of clearance-rack Gap jeans that fit, were in the "authentic" style (which is really faux-authentic), were "relaxed" fit, not low-rise (in your face, Mom!), and had deep pockets, all for $20. I decided to give 'em a try. I must confess, I liked 'em.

Now I can't stop buying those darn blue pants. I'm on my third pair, and things have really come full-circle. The last ones I bought were low-rise, and the least-baggy trou I've worn in years. I hate to admit it, but they're probably the coolest pants I own. My khakis are becoming obsolete. Why did I wait so long to return to pants that fit well like this? Why did I give 'em up in the first place?

I feel like a cowboy when I walk. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, ropin'n'ridin', tobacco spit, belt buckles and purdy ladies. I should have boots for this.