Today I broke into whatever weird alternate universe well-fitting skinny jeans have been living in – I’ve been trying, without any success at all. I thought for awhile that it was me; my waist is too wide, my butt is too flat, I’m not 25. Things like that. I’ve wondered if the skinny jean trend was one that I was just going to have to let pass me by, like Twitter, and like my grandmother’s inability to ever truly understand call waiting. That happens when you get older. You just can’t be hip to everything.
I’m a bit embarrassed to say where the tear in the lining of the skinny jean world appeared. Wouldn’t it be great if it was at some fabulous little boutique in downtown Philadelphia, a place that is open two days a week by appointment only? Imagine that I, in my fashionista way, was one of the few people who knew about this spot, and had them hand-make me the perfect pair of skinny jeans, flat butt and all.
OK, so I found them at Target.
Which is amazing – because they didn’t cost me what my fantasy boutique pants would have cost – but also because I have stalked the Target skinny-jean-area. I tried on the Converse, the Mossimo, the Merona (oh boy – a word of advice, don’t even bother). I have swallowed my pride and tried on sizes 11 and 13, because, you know, I’m A GROWN WOMAN and not a teenager without hips. I’ve had kids, goddammit. I may wear a size 8 at the Gap (and an inexplicable size 4 at Banana Republic) but in the junior’s section…I’m a solid 11. I’m over it.
So I grabbed the usual assortment of pants that probably wouldn’t fit, along with something I must be late to the party on – denim leggings (who knew?!). I’ve done this so frequently I hardly had to pay attention, but could instead mentally walk through the rest of Target searching for more things I don’t need, like a Cuisinart and another hat. Or, perhaps, a copy of Legends of the Fall:
But in the dressing room, they fit! They ALL fit! I became slightly giddy at the idea of adding 4 pairs of skinny jeans to my collection of 0. I started imagining the outfits, how they would look with my boots, how they would change my life. Finally, I thought. I’ll be happy with how I look, once I have these. All ills will be solved by good skinny jeans.
Is anyone else out there as extreme in their magical thinking as I am? Particularly as it relates to 1) boys and 2) clothes. (Well, the boys were awhile ago, but the clothes are current) I have always imagined that if I just had the right clothes, I’d feel better. I’d look better. It’s a satisfying explanation, especially as it relieves me of any need to diet or exercise, and it makes the possibility of feeling good about my body seem right around the corner. And it’s always soooo disappointing how very not true it ends up being. I don’t feel better. I blame the clothes. I self-flagellate, and imagine that the next time I buy pants will be the turning point.
I only bought two of them, after some very serious self-talk about how many times I’ve come home from a trip to Target with multiple pairs of ill-fitting jeans. I figured that by the time these jeans wear out, in about 6 months, skinny jeans won’t be hip anymore.
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