Oxford life. Thirtysomething challenges. Music leanings. Anything really.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Mid-life jeans crisis
I have a pair of 501s. They're six or so years old, fading, and comfortable. They were purchased when people thought a boot cut was just an obscure hairstyle and distressed denim was how your jeans felt when you waved some shears near them.
Liz has been giving me a fashion-related guilt trip for long enough that even I begin to see that they just aren't trendy anymore. Looking around, noone wears lightish blue jeans anymore, and certainly not in a drainpipe shape.
What to do, though? I no longer have the urge to traipse around shops. In the past three months I have ventured twice into vaguely fashionable shops (Fat Face and River Island - trendy?).
On each occasion, I find that instead of seeing jeans I like, I just get a sinking feeling as I try on long pants that just make me look ridiculous.
I tried Next, but even this dullest-of-dull shop for wannabe trendy thirtysomethings left me cold and uninterested in spending cash on jeans.
Conclusion? I'm going to eke out the 501s until they collapse. And continue wearing my cut-off trousers that make me seem like a surf-dude who's too old to still surf. Combined with my very red fell-running shoes, I think I cut quite a picture. I'm sure the soon-to-arrive new crop of students will take one look at me in the pubs of Cowley Road and think, "Old man."
Liz has been giving me a fashion-related guilt trip for long enough that even I begin to see that they just aren't trendy anymore. Looking around, noone wears lightish blue jeans anymore, and certainly not in a drainpipe shape.
What to do, though? I no longer have the urge to traipse around shops. In the past three months I have ventured twice into vaguely fashionable shops (Fat Face and River Island - trendy?).
On each occasion, I find that instead of seeing jeans I like, I just get a sinking feeling as I try on long pants that just make me look ridiculous.
I tried Next, but even this dullest-of-dull shop for wannabe trendy thirtysomethings left me cold and uninterested in spending cash on jeans.
Conclusion? I'm going to eke out the 501s until they collapse. And continue wearing my cut-off trousers that make me seem like a surf-dude who's too old to still surf. Combined with my very red fell-running shoes, I think I cut quite a picture. I'm sure the soon-to-arrive new crop of students will take one look at me in the pubs of Cowley Road and think, "Old man."
// posted by Andy @ 1:47 pm 
