When ripped jeans became cool in 2004 (Abercrombie-cool, mind you, so bear with me here), I dropped one night’s worth of my side-hustle baby-sitting dough on a pair of hyper-distressed denim with gigantic holes in the knees. My step dad’s response?
“I could have made you those in the backyard for free.”
It’s true that paying for pants that look like they’ve been gardened in, run over, struck with lightening and pulled through a shards-of-glass party seems sort of dumb. But good decisions don’t necessarily always equate to smart decisions: on Saturday, for example, I ate an entire prosciutto and arugula pizza by myself. It was definitely a good idea, but two hours later when I had to lie down in the shower because I was too full to stand, I realized it wasn’t the smart idea.
Cut to me in Topshop a few weeks ago when I was there for the purpose of finding a dress. Instead, I left with a pair of white, high-waisted jeans dappled with enough holes to strain an aardvark salad through. They were an impulse buy that screamed “summer” at the time — I had visions of my hair instantly lightening and imagined all the ways I’d evade the question, “Where do you go surfing?” but when it came time to don the actual juans, I felt a little exposed. Or like my step dad could have made them in the backyard.
But I stand by them. And when I pair them with sportier items (like the Saint James knit per the photo above) the rips retain the beach-casual feel that I originally pictured. However, I wouldn’t go to bed unless you said goodnight, and I can barely start my day without your hellos so tell me, please: in your honest opinion, are these jeans fla$hy or tra$hy?
— Amelia Diamond