Climbing Jean Mountain

How many is too many?

It’s a piece of string sort of question but sometimes it’s best to admit that you have too many.

I’ll admit I’m by nature a bit of a hoarder, it’s an infliction I inherited from my grandfather, and occasionally it can be a challenge to edit and eject items from my life.  Over the years I’ve adopted a “one in, one out” philosophy with my wardrobe.  However I’m not quite so disciplined when it comes to jeans.  

I’m not entirely certain when or how the Jeans Mountain (Significant Other’s words I’d prefer to call it the Jeans Collection) came into being, although I recall reading an article in Nylon magazine about a woman who had a huge collection of jeans, so perhaps how that’s how it started (don’t have the article any longer as I also had, prior to meeting Significant Other, a Magazine Collection which swiftly went to the magazine heaven aka the recycling!)

As a ladies tailor who makes the majority of her own clothes, jeans are an indulgence (shoes also being another – my rationale being I can’t make either) and over the years, boy have I indulged.  From the Earle denims I bought in Barney’s, New York last century (my first designer pair), to the 7 for all Mankind I bought in a celebrity packed Fred Segal on Melrose (LA) on my 30th birthday; boot-cut, flared, straight-leg and skinny, these jeans tell the story of my life.

Strangely enough virtually every pair still fit, ok a couple were a little “snug”, but it told the story of my adulthood – and my pocket… with two pairs(?!) of eye-wateringly expensive Rock and Republic purchased over 10 years ago at a price I shudder to think of even today!   

So why did I save the older pairs, I wasn’t merely creating a Collection?  As styles became skinner, and legs became slimmer, I held on my beloved boot-cuts thinking I’d wear them again.   Like the woman who has gone up a dress size and saves her beloved smaller sizes for when she’s slim enough, I’d held on for the fashion to change.  But as most of my boot-cut jeans were of an early noughties vintage, when the fashion was low cut, a quick try on and the dreaded muffin-top gave their vintage away.

What to do?  A swift, and somewhat ruthless edit, left me with sufficient straight, skinny and boot’s to keep even the fussiest tailor happy, with a magic number to adhere to. 

 …and my magic number?  That would be telling.

Rejects from the Jeans Mountain
Rejects from the Jeans Mountain

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