Ooo...la...la

Slacks…britches…pants…trousers…dungarees…jeans.

Oh my, who doesn’t love a good pair of jeans? I remember as a teenager wearing Levi’s 501 button fly jeans. There was a big tag on the back, right hip that gave the dimensions (I think I have been in real estate too long) of the jeans. W27 L34 - ie Waist 27 Length 34. I thought it would even be cooler (because I was already so cool sport a Members Only jacket) to take a ball point pen and scratch out the waist measurement. Now why on earth would I do that considering I was as skinny as a stick of macaroni back then?

There were also Sasson jeans. “Ooo…la…la…Sasson.” Gloria Vanderbilt’s. Calvin Klein’s. “Nothing comes between me and my Calvin’s.” Guess and Gerbaud.

My favorite pair of jeans were Guess. They had pockets, both in the front and back, that were shaped like big ½ moons and were lined with some cool, soft leather. God, I loved those jeans! They were expensive at the time - a pricey $60. I know that because I bought them myself after many summer hours of serving Skittle Scrambles and Fried Chicken Steak to the locals at Country Kitchen.

I made one very crucial mistake, however, when I purchased these beautiful jeans. I bought them right before I left for college. Sure, I heard the horror stories of girls leaving for college and coming back for the Holidays carrying an extra 15 pounds on them. Oh, the “Freshman 15”…that won’t happen to me…I thought! I would resist the tempting all-you-can-eat ice cream bar located in the cafeteria…I wouldn’t drink fattening beer or eat late at night after consuming copious amounts of said fattening beer. I will participate in the nightly aerobics class instead.

Well all that went to Hell within the first few weeks of college. There is just something about being on your own for the very first time that you feel you can do whatever you want without any ramifications.

Sadly my Guess jeans started getting tighter and tighter and pretty soon trying to fit into my jeans was similar to trying to shove a marshmallow in a piggy bank. Eventually the once cool leather tore. Not having the heart to retire the jeans quite yet, my mother (the consummate master of anything to do with the fabric store) replaced the leather with some more substantial fabric (no not kryptonite…I said fabric, people!). Eventually, much to my chagrin, I was no longer able to strut around campus in my beloved Guess jeans.

Even though jeans are as close to the perfect clothing article as a Speedo is for Michael Phelps, there is one place that, I feel, it is completely unsuitable to be wearing jeans yet I have seen them worn here more than once.

I am talking about the gym. In the past couple of weeks, I have seen grown men (yes that’s plural) working out in jeans. I will cut one guy, who was wearing jean shorts, a little bit of slack but not much because he was still at the gym for goodness sakes!

I mean, I am no fashion expert but really…jeans to the gym? Stop it!