Skinny Jean See-Saw, that is. I bought some. Skinny jeans. They fit. They’re comfortable. They may never leave the confines of my bedroom. As this trend has grown I’ve watched and wondered as women of all shapes and sizes succumbed to the allure of the skinny jean. (Amazing how much more chic “skinny” sounds than “tapered”.) I love how effortless and stylish they look paired with breezy tops or slouchy sweaters. I love the way tall, thin women look even more tall and thin and how petite ladies channel a 60s sassy vibe. Tucked into boots? Topped with a turtleneck? Paired with gladiator sandals? Contrasted with an over-sized buttondown? Yes, yes, yes. But still, I resisted. I feared the shocking contrast between the circumference of my waist, my hips, and my ankles. I need a flare – or at the very least, a bootcut, to balance my, errr, womanly shape. I need a wide leg to top a tall heel to lengthen the line of my leg and diminish the aforementioned feminine curves. This is probably all true. Nothing has changed. And yet, I have caved. Skinny jeans may look awful on me. Strangers may question my good taste. Friends may try to kindly steer me toward a different silhouette. But bright ballet flats don’t look nearly as becoming trapped under a waterfall of fabric. So long, wide leg pants. My flats are cute and comfortable and they’ve been waiting for the right pant to show them a good time, to make them feel special, noticed, appreciated. Summer loves – shorts, skirts, capris – have come and gone. They are looking for a romance that will last all winter. I at least owe them one date, you know, to see if their personalities click ; ).
The jeans I bought. Technically they are ‘slim’, not skinny. I am neither so I tend to ignore the word games.