I'll Try Anything Once: My Jeans from 1993

Who says everything old should be new again?

Apr 6, 2011 at 5:43pm | Leave a comment

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Three factors makes this story possible: One, I have lost a ton of weight recently (about 35 pounds). Two, apparently the 1990s are back in style. Three, I have held onto a pair of jeans for the past 18 years, not because they are my "skinny jeans" and I hoped to fit into them one day but because I had embroidered their pockets and -- I guess -- didn't want to discard this brilliant (wait for it) handiwork.

As is just so happens, the last time I weighed what I weigh now, I was sixteen and it was the 1990s. Talk about some serious synchronicity!

The jeans themselves? Stonewashed Gap reverse fit size 8s from 1993. The back pockets are hand-embroiderd sayings that reflect my tastes at the time. I was obsessed with The Beatles when I was sixteen (I was an odd teen) so one pocket reads "Happiness is a Warm Gun" while the other pocket is decorated with a poorly stitched Union Jack and the words "Dig It" and "Rule Britannia."  I can't believe I kept these through countless moves and almost twenty years.

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Hey hipsters, you want to see someone rocking some seriously ugly clothes? Here we go.

10:12 am: I put them on and they fit. First thing I notice is how incredibly huge they make my butt look. Now, I pride myself on having a Cuban butt, but this is ridiculous. Sir Mix-A-Lot would call my butt "excessively large" in these jeans. The waist band is dangerously close to my breasts. But they fit and that's all that matters.

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10:14: Call me crazy, but I don't think jeans are supposed to make your vagina hurt. 

10:26: I starch and iron the only large T-shirt I can find in my house. I roll the sleeves. I'm feeling so 1993 right now that I want to go cry in my room about some guy name Frank.

11:50: Instead, my thirty-five year old friend picks me up and we head out to do errands. When I open the door, she doesn't even bat an eye. I say nothing. A few minutes later she's says "you're rocking the high waisted pants, aren't you?" I'm amazed but she actually thinks I look cute.

12:00: I pick up my daughter from preschool. I'm so not looking forward to walking through that door. Pen's teacher immediately comments on the jeans which, of course means that they can't be that bad. Right? People don't comment on the hideous. I'm totally self-concious so I say "it's for a story I'm writing!"  One of my daughter's other teachers comments on how long the zipper is. It's the first time I notice that the zipper is like 8 inches long!

12:18: We sit down for lunch. Or rather, I try to sit down. It's not they're too tight, it's that they're just touching all the wrong places in the wrong ways. I'm convince now that I must have actually lost my virginity at sixteen just by wearing these jeans.

1:05: We're walking down the street in San Francisco and some hipsters look me up and down. "You wish you looked this good in ugly clothes," I think. "Let's see if you can fit in your jeans in twenty years!"  But I'm only fooling myself. We then stop into a clothing boutique to buy a pair of shoes. No one seems to want to make eye contact with me. My high-waisted buzz is quickly being killed.

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1:07: I start making a list of the pros/cons for this jeans adventure:

  • Pro: Yeah, I fit into my high school jeans!
  • Con: I feel like I just had high school sex.

1:12: I tell my friend to take a photo of me to prove that I actually went out wearing the jeans. My daughter is in the shot. It's safe to say that, at sixteen, I wouldn't have imagined any of this.

2:30: My friend and I head to a thrift store and are soon outnumbered by twenty-year old hipsters in far uglier clothes. One guy is dressed in head-to-toe stonewashed denim. I suddenly feel inadequate. I'm also feeling really old since I realize that my jeans are older than these kids.

3:38: I get home, take off the jeans and start writing.  I'm not sure if I'm proud of my jeans adventures or shell-shocked. What I do know is that I'm going to be really pissed if my jeans don't call me again.