Cowboy Like Me
The joy of an unexpectedly perfect wardrobe addition.
There is a possibility that I have irreparably damaged my favorite pair of jeans. Jeans have always been a tricky part of my wardrobe to nail down: I’m not tall but I refuse to shorten the hems, I also am not a fan of stretch but want them to fit just so despite any fluctuations on my side. I like the denim to have some weight to it but not to be so rigid that it could, like, cut me. And I’m not a wild and intensely knowledgeable denimhead so a lot of my process is based on trial and error. (In that vein, this article about vintage Levi’s and the lengths that pickers will go to get their grail pair is a fun introduction to that scene.) Also, because in the past I typically dressed up to go to the office every day, I didn’t really focus on the relaxed side of my closet, and thus, always felt a bit at loose ends when it came to dressing casually. Over the past few years, I have subconsciously begun to build out a wardrobe of denim so that I have options across a few washes and silhouettes ranging from loose to wide boys.
Because of my affinity for uniforms and my lack of enthusiasm for actually deciding on what I am going to wear on a daily basis, when I find a brand or fit that suits me, I tend to stick with it, and so despite having amassed this wardrobe of denim fits and washes, I wore the (possibly) ruined ones most often. The inseam is perfect for both boots and flats, which for me and denim is fairly rare, and they boast a wash featuring paint specks that makes them look authentically faux-vintage. (I am not the only one who appreciated these jeans: in one week I had three unrelated people compliment me on them - all specifically called out the wash and asked if they were vintage - it was an odd coincidence.) Denim is a business that is often built around core fits from each vendor; once the vendor has one or more fits that work they will typically update the wash, inseam or fabric and can run it for years, provided the market doesn’t rapidly shift. Sadly I think I was one of the few who loved both that fit and that wash because the wash was marked down after one season and it seems that the vendor has not gone forward with the fit, most likely because the lower rise and looser waist is not flattering on most people. Here we are presented with a tragedy of epic proportions: how does one replace a pair of irreplaceable jeans? Okay, perhaps not epic in its scale but still really, really dire.
Given that the denim that I potentially ruined were a light wash, I assumed that I would want to replace them with the closest dupe I could find. I took a quick detour from my jorts quest and popped into Khaite, one of my go-to denim resources (at this point you are on my wavelength and appreciating my consistency in all things sartorial, or you are totally bored, there is no in between) just to poke around the denim assortment with no intention of buying, she says, fooling no one. I got to chatting with one of the associates after he complimented my shoes (what can I say, I am an easy target) and told him that I was looking for a non-stretch, straight leg, light wash jean that wasn’t too long and I already knew that one of their fits wouldn’t suit me. He pulled one pair for me and then added two others which were both darker washes and not exactly what I had asked for. After trying them all, I ironically ended up choosing the clean, darker wash straight leg. (One of the morals of this story is that a good sales associate is invaluable and it almost always works when they take the time to listen to what you are looking for, even if they subsequently ignore it!)
Post dopamine-induced shopping trip, I started feeling some buyer’s indecision as I typically do not purchase things that I haven’t already been considering. I’ve also felt a bit uninspired lately, fashion-wise, I think possibly to do with the weather and being at that point in the season where it feels like I’m wearing the same five things on perpetual repeat. Plus, when it comes to casual clothes, I have always gravitated toward cleaner and simpler looks but prefer to imagine myself as a model of Jane Birkinesque (RIP) louche, sexy simplicity as opposed to the basic skinny jeans gal, which I fear those type of looks can easily veer towards, particularly given the recent proliferation of “quiet luxury,” a term and trend that really grates - another rant for another day. Because these jeans are darker and straight, they lean more classic than my preference, especially when worn with a cotton button up top, one of my summer uniform heroes. As a result of my extended childhood immersion, I do have an affinity for prep, but I don’t actually want to look like one of the Main Line moms. And so I was presented with my second dilemma: determining whether these jeans fit into my personal aesthetics. In the same way that the jeans surprised me, the way that they fit came to me from an unexpected source - actually two unexpected sources.
I was paging through the Richard Prince Cowboy book for non-sartorial purposes when something about their looks hit: I was really into the cowboys’ darker denim mixed with chambray shirts, suede vests or denim jackets. These guys look the furthest thing from basic. There’s an element of nostalgia, “classic Americana” and fantasy around the symbol of the cowboy, clearly, but I am not making a commentary on traditional touchstones of masculinity or our complicated history - I’m simply speaking of and appreciating their aesthetics.
Around the same time, I was rewatching Dior and I (a documentary about Raf Simons’ first couture show at Dior) and found myself most focused on Pieter Mulier’s wardrobe. Mulier worked as Raf’s right hand for years prior to being named Creative Director at Alaïa. In the film and in general, he wears clean, well-tailored clothing featuring a plethora of denim, both tops and pants, that he mixes with chinos and white shirts. Again, although they read understated, there is nothing basic about his looks. The nexus of the look is really the proportion of the top, the right belt and a corresponding chunkier shoe to keep the jeans from feeling too girly or basic. I can play with my oversized tees (I found two others I like in addition to the Khaite one; yup, when I commit to something, I really commit) or pair the jeans with a washed denim shirt or vest, as Mulier did himself earlier this year:
One unfortunate side effect of my newfound cowboy obsession is that it has reaffirmed my long-standing quest for the perfect denim shirt, to which I return sporadically but to date has remained elusively out of reach. Except for maybe this one from Bottega that is possibly sliiiightly out of my price range… Unrelatedly, I know I just said I didn’t want to look basic and girly but I am now convinced that I need these pink jeans (and maybe the pink overshirt to go with?), seriously, guys, I have problems. If anyone has any sane suggestions as to where to go for my perfect denim shirt, let’s chat, although it will surprise no one to know I have a few specifications as to my needs and leanings already as to where I should look next, so perhaps this post is actually a two-parter?
The real moral of this story is that inspiration can strike from and at the most unexpected of places and times: Grace Coddington once mentioned in an interview that she was told as a young stylist never to go to sleep in the car or stop paying attention, because one never knew what one might be inspired by. Be open to the unexpected! One of the biggest cliches about New York that also happens to be true is that there is always something or someone new to see and discover, and although it can sometimes be exhausting, that constant curiosity and search for newness and evolution is part of what makes us human and interesting. The funniest thing about these jeans is that in writing this post and looking at those old photos, I wondered if they are just what was missing from my wardrobe without my even knowing it. Once I started paying closer attention to darker wash jeans I began seeing them everywhere, including in my own images that I had saved from the Fall shows earlier this year. And anyway, I think I may just claim that the stain on my other pair is from the jeans’ previous owner who worked as a gold miner in the 1800s. If it’s good enough for vintage Levi’s grail hunters, then it’s good enough for me.