OWNING the perfect pair of jeans is like having the holy grail of fashion hanging in your wardrobe.
Too tight and you feel like your bahookie’s been swallowed by a boa constrictor. Too loose and your rear can resemble a collapsed lung.
It takes some people years to find the right fit, with endless options sent to taunt tired shopper.
There’s leg length, waist height, colour and cut to consider. That heaped on top of boot cut, straight leg, boyfriend fit, flared and skinny jeans to name but a few.
With so many options and so little guidance it’s easy to understand why hundreds of woman get it wrong.
Denims have become our second skin, the uniform of the masses. They are acceptable attire in most social circumstances which has led the wearer up the garden path on the fit front.
I have yet to find my perfect fit. I believe they are out there somewhere, waiting for me to find them. And when that day comes my life will change forever.
But until then an inferior fit will not be found on me. I only wish my jean resistance would rub off on more wearers.