Outfit inspired by Isabel Marant SS2010 show
Coming back to Paris now, all of my existential crisis return. And now I’m wondering if all our outfits really are out to get us. Just hear me out here… Take our low-rise jeans, for example. In theory, I love them.
But in practice, well, during the first five minutes I’m wearing them, when I leave my apartment, making my way down the street as a happy and accomplished woman, hair in the wind, I’m contented… Until I feel my jeans slipping down my leg a little with each step. The wind in my hair stops flat. No need to even look, I know exactly what’s going down: in two seconds, my belt is going to be at mid-ass, and the crotch of the jeans is going to be at mid-thigh. Low-rise jeans: they fall, they slip, they never stay in place.
And this is when the dance starts that’ll keep on keepin’ on for the rest of my day: THE DANCE OF PICKING MY JEANS BACK UP. You gotta grab ‘em by each side and wooooooh! give ‘em a nice yank to get them back up nice and high, bend and straighten each leg in a stupifyingly graceful way, and then a nice little shimmy-shake to get the butt-cheeks back in their original position.
CLASSY. PICKING UP LOW-RISE JEANS IS CLASSY.
And don’t think you can ever pull this off with no one watching. There is ALWAYS someone watching. Even if it’s just yourself. That’s how I came across my reflection for the last time, in the middle giving my jeans a nice yank discreet-like-when-everyone-has-their-back-turned. And I had a moment of utter terror. Yanking up your low-rise jeans is no pretty thing.
And don’t even think it works, I already tried a belt, same thing happens. But a belt makes it even worse. It works like a weight pulling the jeans lower and lower. And what about higher-waisted jeans? Of course! I have dreams about high-waisted jeans I think they’re so beautiful. But no, I’ve tried to no avail, they just don’t work on me.
I’ve already gotten rid of all my tights that claim to stay up on their own (I mean c’mon, you spend the entire night trying to get them back up again), bustiers that don’t quite stay in place (oh yeah, so classy readjusting your breasts right in the middle of dinner.)(Do it discretely? What did I already tell you? There is ALWAYS someone watching.) thigh-high boots (with thigh-highs, it’s simple, either you spend your entire life pulling them back up, or you always have one that’s just a little higher than the other. And with tights, it’s even worse!!) and maybe it’s right there that I start wondering if these jeans are a road block on my road to happiness, that sense of accomplishment and my hair in the wind?
These jeans… Do I have to banish them from my wardrobe as well?
Yeahhhh, I dunno, coming back home always makes me far more complicated. And hey, because of that, I’m off to Madrid! See you there! Bonne journée!
Translation : Tim Sullivan