Men are on a constant search for The Jean. Ever since rickety old miners demanded they have a new type of trouser to wear while furiously panning for gold, men everywhere have been on the lookout for that One Pair of jeans that will make their lives complete and give their otherwise meaningless existence purpose.
Jeans can’t just be pants, you see. They must tell some kind of story. They have to tell your life experience within a few seconds. Denim is uniquely suited to do this because they wear in. Carry a lot of change and your wallet in your right back pocket? Jeans will be able to convey this useful fact to anyone fortunate enough to be leering at your ass. Indeed, jeans are great at letting people know what you typically carry in which pocket, be it change, a comb, a switchblade, or even a small mammal.
Jeans also have the power to give you a tremendous amount of “cred”. Everyone knows that selvege denim is the best denim, since Japanese people wear selvedge and Japanese people wear only the best garments. Samurai were known to win battles purely on how much street cred their armor had:
Samurai1: Yamamoto-san, gaze upon Tachiguchi’s armor! It is woven of only the finest silk found in the Harajuku district!
Samurai2: Indeed, Kensei-san. We must quickly drop our weapons, for his fine armor proves that he is the dope shit.
And so it goes.
The funny thing about denim is that just as amazing, handmade selvedge denim is coveted, so is the cheap ass crap you can sometimes find at giant megastores that also sell shotguns and microwaves and microwave-shotguns. Again, it really comes down to the amount of cred you can get. You can rock the $350 Jean Store jeans, but you run the danger of being called a metrosexual, which ironically challenges your sexuality even as you claim to be over such labeling. So then you can rock Wrangler jeans, because jeans are supposed to be for salt-of-the-earth type people, and nothing has more salt than the people of Walmart. This is a very strange characteristic of denim, much more so than whiskering.
I just bought some Pointer Brand jeans because it fell into that second camp of jeans: cheap but rich in storied history. They’re a Tennessee-based clothing company that doesn’t so much make clothes as it does armor for blue collar workers. I wanted to show my solidarity with my fellow hunters and carpenters by the only means I knew how: buying Pointer Jeans from a fancy boutique in Soho.
You have to give it to Pointer. They have so much street cred a Google Image search reveals almost no useful pics. This is the only image I could find of the jeans I bought:
For what it’s worth, the jeans are pretty friggin sweet. Now I finally have a place to put my hammer and straightedge. Being a Brooklyn Hipster, carpentry is one of the many side projects I have, along with my Swedish Rap album and my performance art project with the radio station.
The jeans are absolutely enormous, which I like, since many jean brands seem to be going way overboard on the tight, tight, tight jean cut. The rise is super high, so maybe I can take them fly fishing with me sometime (my fourth side project). All kidding aside, the color is actually very nice, and wearing them with some suspenders makes me feel all warm and American.
I wonder wear this denim roller coaster will take us next. Perhaps the Sensible Jean will take prominence in the metrosexual’s denim universe. Or maybe those jeans that have cuffs at the bottom that you can by at Costco.
Ah, if only those gnarled 49ers could see us now.