Jeans

Today I found myself sitting in a lobby, in furniture I could never afford, with magazines displayed on the coffee table in front of me that were written in English and Japanese.
And you'll never guess what they were about.
They were about Jeans.
I'm not kidding. There is such a thing as a Japanese Denim Buyers Guide.

So, my host dad told me we were going to look at jeans and then go the market. He said they were hand made jeans.
Ok, sure.
We were driving in a neighborhood and I was enjoying looking at the urban houses and clothes lines when we stopped in front of a really modern building. It was terribly out of place.
The sign outside read New Generation Jeans.

We stepped inside, I took of my shoes before entering as is Thai tradition. And the attendant asked me if I knew any Thai.
"Uh, not really."
"Ah, we can entertain you then."
Whatever that meant.


For the next 15 minutes or so, I sat around looking at the modern interior of the room. The attendant asked me if I wore jeans.
(Let me point out that I WAS WEARING JEANS.)
"I'm from America, everyone wears jeans," I said with a genuine smile. It's true. And being in a jean store/factory/jean couture place made me sorta proud to be an American.
"Yes, our jeans have more of a vintage look," he (the attendant) said as he pulled out a freshly pressed, dark slim pair of jeans from a cabinet and showed them to my host dad.
All of a sudden I felt completely under-dressed. I looked down at my jeans. My jeans. The jeans I have had for three and a half years, that have holes in the knees because of wear-and-tear (not because I bought them that way), that I now wear as capri pants because the legs are too short. I compared them to the pants the attendant showed my host dad.

Wait a second.

My jeans have been to Europe. My jeans have survived public middle and high school. My jeans have been through corn mazes and games of Lap Tag. My jeans have been with me to camp and doctor who parties. They have been with me to two concerts about harry potter. My jeans have character!
I appreciate fashion and like clothes. But clothes are meant to be worn. I can't slide in the mud in a pair of vintage jeans or paint my room with vintage jeans.
The point of jeans is that they are supposed to be worn.
They are like pair of converse. You can do anything in them and you can still find ads for them in Vogue!
I have a certain respect for people who wear converse. You know that they bought those shoes because they are going to use them. Not because they are vintage, or an American Classic.

Books: Page 120 or MPHFPC and on cht 7 or sherlock holmes
Thai: desert.............................................................................. ka gnome