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I BOUGHT A PAIR OF WOMEN'S JEANS. WHATEVER. |
Whether we want to admit it or not, there comes a time in every guy's life where we've got to make the executive decision regarding womenswear: to wear or not to wear. I mean, girls have been wearing guys clothes since they were invented, right? (I know the whole thing about making a decision regarding womenswear isn't true, but I'll pretend it is for the sake of this piece.)
Last Friday afternoon, I found myself in line for the Proenza Schouler sample sale. While in line, a European guy walks over to me (after taking a photo of the UGG storefront on Mercer), and asks what everyone is waiting for. I tell him that there's a Proenza sample sale. "Ah, sample sale... and what do they make," he asks. I simply answered, "womenswear," because I couldn't be bothered to go into depth. His next question made perfect sense to me, and almost sparked a small scale revelation– "...womenswear? Then why are you here?" Honestly, at that point, I was 98% ready to to sacrifice my place (second) in line to head back uptown, but I'd been waiting for long enough and I really didn't want a wasted trip. Since I didn't have a real reason, I could only respond with "gifts." Did he buy it? Not at all, but I didn't really care. Why did I really go to the Proenza sample sale? Well, my mom's birthday was the weekend before, and I thought it'd be nice to pick her up a little something. I also had plans for the night, and no real outfit to wear, so I thought there would have to be some sort of tee or something I could convince myself was unisex enough... anything to leave the store with something.
After a couple of aimless and outrageously self-conscious (read: shameful) laps around the sale, I was beginning to regret not leaving when I was questioned by Monsieur Euro. Fingering dresses like the faux buyer I think I am entertained me for all of what, three minutes? Working my way around the room, I finally mustered up the courage to investigate the bins of denim selection, since I was shopping for jeans for my mom (ahem, myself). I really liked what I saw, but I didn't know if I was ready to wear women's denim. I mean, I've been told that I have a killer pair of legs, but was that enough to warrant actually buying (and wearing) girls' jeans? I think so.
Fortunately, thanks to the super helpful workers and the fact that the jeans were the "boy jean," I finally gave in, tried on about four different sizes, and made the purchase. Check mate, society. The best part is that no one can even tell (partially because of the fit).
Also, I'm pretty sure that "boy jean," translates to mens'.