I’m done with jeans.
Jeans are an outdated byproduct of a working class America. They were originally designed to provide tremendous support and protection for the day laborers at a very low cost point. Yet, they somehow remain the daily attire of construction workers, farmers, factory workers and white American men ages six and up. Well I don’t work in a fucking factory. In fact, most of the time that I’m working, I have no pants on at all.
I’m done with jeans.
As fashion evolved, so did jeans. The bottoms belled out in the 80s. They hung halfway down millions of asscheeks in the ’90s. In the new millennium they got so tight they looked spray painted on. Nowadays, “dad jeans” are what the blogs are buzzing about. What they should be buzzing about is the impeding death of jeans because
I’m done with jeans.
“But JR, what will you do?” you say out loud in your one bedroom apartment to make it feel less lonely. “Will you wear khakis?” Khakis?! Khakis are the same family as jeans except they’re the cousin who moved to Europe and became a bisexual. Well I’m done with Europe, I’m done with khakis and…
I’m especially done with jeans.
Ladies, when was the last time you said out loud, “Look at that hot guy over there in the T-Shirt and jeans?” Or if it’s winter, “Look at that cold guy over there in the sweater and jeans?” How can you possibly tell any of us apart?! But hey, if that’s your style, so be it. You don’t have to be lonely, head to FarmersOnly.com. Now picture a guy wearing comfortable but form fitting cotton pants that cutoff halfway down the ankle, talking to a 4-inch tall miniaturized figurine of himself sticking out of his pocket. Tell me you’re not staring, even out of abject curiosity.
I rest my case. I’m done with jeans.
No more will I deal with the harrowing task of having to pick my boxer briefs out of my sack crack in public. No longer will I sit trapped in the window seat on an overheating airplane delayed on LAX’s runway wishing pants removal wouldn’t get me a first class seat on the No Fly list. Nope, from here on out, I’m a Lululemon guy. Laugh all you want, call me a stuck up fuck from Cali. Sure I might not land a date anytime soon, and my boss might pointedly tell me to stop wearing sweatpants to business meetings. I don’t care. I’m cool, comfortable and relaxed in my non-jeans.
I’m done with jeans.
“But Lulu’s are so expensive!” you cry out from your parents’ kitchen table because you have no plans this weekend. “hundreds of dollars a pop for just one pair of their pants. What makes them so special?” I’ll tell you what: ABC technology. ABC technology stands for Anti Ball Crushing technology, and it’s the greatest invention of the 21st century. My ballbag sways to and fro without a care in the world all day long. All sway with no fray make JR a happy boy.
As for the price point, shop the sales rack, Internet friends. The stuff at Lulu goes on sale when they only have a few pairs left, so shop as often as you can. A few pairs of $80 joggers and ABC pants go a much longer way than a CLOSET full of J Crew jeans (bro, how original). Plus, the men’s sales rack at most Lulu stores are a pristine paradise compared to the piranha-infested carcass they call the women’s sales rack.
So hear me out and hear it loud. This is my personal guarantee stamped with the JR seal of approval. If anybody sees me wearing jeans in 2017, be it on social media, at one of my shows or walking the streets of SF, confront me. Confront me and I will Venmo you $80 to buy yourself your own non-jeans, my treat. Sorry, you have to cover the tax. Spread the word, tell your friends and join the movement.
I’m done with jeans.
#nojeans2017.
Image via Shutterstock