Daredevil

My hat is off to the talented salesgirls at Jean Machine. One in particular saved me, yesterday, from giving up in frustration.

I doubt that there is any woman over the age of 16 who enjoys shopping for jeans. But when the jeans you own are as washed-out and baggy-assed as mine were, you just have to bite the bullet and go for it.

One of the things I like least about the experience is the overwhelming choice. There are about ten zillion styles of jeans out there and THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME! At least, they do when they're just sitting on a shelf or hanging on a rack. There are often some helpful tags attached, with symbols or a list of style features, which I can sometimes interpret, if I don't lose patience after the first two minutes of browsing. And what size am I? God help me; I have no idea. The pants in my closet range all over the map. Do I have the patience to try on three different pairs until I find the right size. NO!

So I have to send a shout-out to the lovely Librarian of Jeans, a 21-year-old salesgirl who interpreted the jean version of the Dewey decimal system for me and did all the hard work. She wrestled the jeans off the jam-packed racks; she knew which fit loose and which fit tight; she didn't lose patience with me when, after trying on half-a-dozen pairs of skinny jeans I changed my mind and decided I wanted boot-cut after all. (I'll pass along this tip: if you are old enough to remember wearing the skinny jean in high school, you probably shouldn't go back to them now. Even if you can struggle into them, that doesn't mean you should be wearing them. Unless you're like, a supermodel, or something.)

I ended up buying a style called "Daredevil", because they are "Dangerously Low Cut". I think they'll do just fine. As long as I never have to bend over, sit down, or squat while I'm wearing them. And that's what hot jeans are all about! Hurray!