Desert Island Denim

We were recently reading a well-respected international fashion magazine when we came to an article about cleaning out your closet—not in the Eminem sense, but in the fashion feng shui sense. And this, we thought was a good idea, the best opportunity yet to see that miserable black peacoat from the Gap (warm but depressing) brighten someone else's day. Someone who does not feel like a giant pudding-marmalade when she wears it, preferably. But then we came to this startling sentence, er, which we cannot quote since we were forced to bin the magazine because of startling handbag weight problems, but basically summed up as: More than five pairs of jeans in your closet is unreasonable.

Now, so many things are unreasonable: the conversion of food into fat, for instance. Nicole Richie, authoress. But limits to jeans? Seriously. It's like communism. It denies the goodwill of the marketplace. And it begs the question: But what would we wear on Saturday and Sunday?

However, every once in a while, we like dealing with unnatural, ungodly constraints, like flying coach next to a man who keeps rubbing his nose with some bizarre Japanese stick-form nose-remedy. And these, therefore, are our five denim-y must-haves. Er, not that one must have anything. You know what we mean. Ooh, we should totally do reindeer-sweater must-haves. Ha!

The Trendy Jean: Above, Topshop's gray skinny Baxter jeans. Officially Kate Moss seal-of-approval'd.


The Normal, Nice Jean: We tried so hard to say something about the whole Kate Moss deal, beginning with the fact that fashion companies who pulled her ads after the whole coke thing are big fucking hypocrites, but then we also do think that she probably makes little girls want to do coke. Confusing. Anyway, Gap jeans are not confusing. These are the kind of jeans (a) you wear on weekends when you will not see anyone you are particularly in need of impressing, (b) will never be as cool as jeans that cost like four times as much and (c) are perfectly adequate if you are not an annoying denim snob. Gap's Original Long & Lean in crosshatch rinse, $58


The Hideous Jean: Can anyone believe that these were once the Gap's most popular denim? UGH BARF. Gap's Original Reverse Fit, $39.50. Cheaper, non-hideous jeans are available at Wal-Marts nationwide. Really. Even the probably 12-year-old model looks like a giant meringue.


The Trendy Jean: Which brings us to ... really, it was just a toss-up here: Which trendy denim do we go with for our denim snob-entry? EdunRoganEarnestSewnTAGPaperDenimJamesPaigeJoeRockandRepublic etc. Argh. Seriously, it's like sixth grade all over again. First, True Religion is out because of that nightmarish lump song and because we hate the way the back pockets end immediately north of your knees. So we are just going to go with the ones that fit us best, noting that this recommendation is only applicable to readers who are exactly our size and weight, or in other words, molded by chocolate and Wheat Thins. Ergo: 7 for all Mankind, even if they are past their hipness-prime. The New York Dark Jean, $143


The Moron Jean: However, if you purchase 7's $700 limited-edition Havana Flowers Jeans, you are either (a) an idiot or (b) Paris Hilton. Ooh, what are we saying? Paris probably got them for free. Tss. It's so interesting how we can be all judgmental about $700 jeans, but not $143 jeans. Tsssss. For "interesting" please read "virulently hypocritical."


The Skinny Jean: For wearing the boot outside or the heels below. We've actually completely come around on the boot-outside thing: Pudding-y calves, forced into big, fluffy boots, look less pudding-y if the surrounding boot is sufficiently fluffy. We have conducted impartial tests on this, and stand by the research. Ava Skinny stretch jeans from Citizens, $146

The Vintage Jean: They must be Levi's. We have a friend who won't buy vintage. In fact, she won't even check out library books. We are not making this up. So we'll have vintage jeans, and she won't. And she'll have therapy, and we won't. Er, yet. We all have our favorite places to buy vintage, but ours (aware of grammatical pains the use of royal "we" is inflicting on this sentence) prefer, always, Incogneeto, in beautiful Somerville, New Jersey, and with a large online inventory.