He never understands
Pointing out the dozens of jeans already hiding in my closet
The collection of attempts
The gathering of let downs
The assortment of individual flaws that force me to continue my search
Taunting me with the money spent
The moments in the changing room
Countless times
I have brought them home
Believing this pair actually stood a chance
At being 'the pair'.
The pair has a list
Of credentials
That make them perfect.
From the experience of finding them to fastening them up at the waist to bringing them home.
The perfect pair Imagine for a moment
Picking them up off a quiet, simple shelf
The denim dark
Enough to be dressy but faded
Enough to wear casual.
The feel
The look
Screams expensive
but obviously on for a bargain
Sturdy but soft. Genuine.
Worn in but brand new
When you pull them up to your waist
They fit.
They actually fit.
No lunges. No stretching. No squats.
They fit All over
A beautiful combination of comfort and style.
Fitted Roominess.
In the thigh, in the waist.
No need to debate over whether the gap at the back is doable with a long shirt.
There is no gap.
Sitting perfectly against the hips
Flawlessly snug against the skin, making
Love handles disappear.
No need for a belt,
But a belt is welcomed, it belongs if the need be.
These jeans
Never grow baggy
Never stretch out
But seamlessly give way to a natural and comfortable stretch
If the need be.
The length.
Falling effortlessly between the heel and the floor
Easily pairing them with any shoe.
A distant and difficult task
I’ve learned to be patient.
Give every pair the chance.
Never let one pass you by or you'll regret it.
Even the ones that look too good to be the pair
Do not judge.
But do not be fooled
by changing room lighting
Or tilted mirrors.
Keep your head up.
I will find the perfect gem among the sea of denim imposters.
