if i was your boyfriend, i’d never let you go.
To the jeans with a nine-inch inseam,
Thank you for finding me. I searched high on the shelves of Madewell—overpriced, but probably sturdy, and still too much for me to pay for a pair of jeans. I searched low in the recesses Gap’s sale section. The fit too tight to claim to be my boyfriend’s jeans. You see, I wanted the saggy, the shredded, the “I took these right out of my boyfriend’s laundry hamper and cinched them just tight enough to rest on my hips with his belt” look. Alas, I have no boyfriend to comb through dirty clothes baskets and every pair of boyfriend jeans I’ve found seem like they’d suffocate my metaphorical boyfriend’s nether region. The boyfriend I’d steal clothes from does not wear the same jeans as me.
But I found them. Forever 21 has my back. I bought them three sizes “too big” they didn’t fit just the way I wanted. They are as unflattering as I had envisioned—saggy, frumpy, ragged—and they’re perfect.
xoxo,
Abbey