Everyone loves a good pair of jeans. I know you have searched for that perfect pair for hours on end at Nordstrom’s, don’t deny it. I don’t even wear jeans that often and I love a good pair of jeans. However… some may say that jeans, mainly designer jeans, are completely overpriced. Do I agree? Yes. Do I still buy them… duh!
When a pair of pants circles your butt, embraces your curves and follows your body to create mile long legs
[1], it is hard not to turn them down. It is easier though once you see the price. Lets see… front row seats for an A’s game or a pair of designer jeans? Well, just do the math: That ticket will only be for one
[2], and yea, memories do last forever, but I mean, come on: how often can memories show off your butt day after day? Exactly.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Just if the jeans are more than $150 doesn’t necessarily mean they are a good pair of jeans, if you can bargain shop; more power to ya
[3]. I am just saying: say you do find a perfect pair of jeans that just so happens to cost maybe more than you make in a week, do you pass it up? Maybe not. Say you spent a dollar for every time you wore them. So if you wear them 150 times they are well worth the steep price
[4].
Disclaimer: Just because I am writing a whole passage on jeans, doesn’t mean I am a Superficial Sally
[5]. I am still the granola girl who would prefer to go commando, wear no make up, and a big tee shirt. But as I am sitting here and watching Stacey and Clinton scrutinize this women’s obvious lack of style, and incapacity to pick out a pair of jeans
[6], I am reminded of my own jean shopping experience that happened at the beginning of the summer.
Things were looking up. I just got my tax return. My grandma just spent $60 on a pair of Ralph Lauren pajamas that I was going to return faster than you could say “completely unnecessary”. So, I was on my way back to San Luis Obispo to start a summer semester at Cuesta College to get a few GE’s out of the way when, suddenly; the most exceptional idea popped into my blonde little head! I could use the unnecessary PJ money, my tax money, and the (little) money I have in my bank account to purchase the jeans of my dreams. William Rast, the Belle Flare jeans. Ahhh! Were they almost as “completely unnecessary” as my grandma’s pajamas? Some might say. I, however, say that nothing is too expensive when it comes to the price of fashion. They are more like an investment for my legs. And besides, I had just enough money to last me for the rest of the month for food. Could this be anymore perfect? Could anything disrupt my plan? As I was driving back to SLO with jeans that are equivalent to gold in the back seat, I thought to my self, “Hell no!”
Oh… How wrong I was.
Turns out, the books I was required to purchase, cost just as much money as I had left for the rest of the month for food, and other necessities
[7]. Well, I was not going to sit on my butt and starve for the rest of the month. No Sir! I had already been promised a job at a skate shop downtown so that could supply my income- NO worries. Right?
Wrong.
As I walked downtown in the unbelievable 114 degree weather
[8], I found the lovely supervisor showing around a new girl the odds and ends of working at a skate shop, she politely informed me that they were no longer hiring. NO? REALLY? I couldn’t tell.
I hadn’t given up yet though. I pursued a different job amidst the heat that was making me sweat right down my chest
[9]. Store after store, shop after shop; shops that I normally would have loved to visit on any other circumstance, were becoming increasingly irritating as every one of them happily explained to me that they weren’t hiring. This was not happening I could be the perfect employee. I was smiling. I was exerting an aroma that was just screaming, “The customer comes first!” And yet still, no job offers. Just as I was about to try one more store, yep, you guessed it; a bird pooped on me.
Well, now I had given up. The heat got to me, the rejection got to me, no: the bird poop got to me: I think it was a sign. So I was going to go home, sit on my butt in the heat, and starve. Thankfully, I only didn’t really eat for like three days. I got a babysitting job, and then, before I knew it, it was the end of the month and it was time for a new allowance, I was going to be ok even though I didn’t eat for a little bit, and even though a bird pooped on me.
Moral of the story: You now know that you can live off of stale bread and peanut butter for three days if you really want that one pair of designer jeans.
[1] Especially when you are 5’2’’, honey, I need all the help I can get.
[2] Who else is crazy enough to spend that watch to see an A’s game
[3] And please… show me your ways!
[4] Dad still has not found this argument valid. Mom has though and has now converted to designer jeans.
[5] Shut up. Yes, I did just make that up.
[6] What Not To Wear should follow right behind the Bible for guidance as far as I am concerned.
[7] Who am I kidding, other necessities= eating out.
[8] It is NEVER that hot here.
[9] Nonexistent to most, but trust me, its there.