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My jaunt with jeans: Why a pair of denims is my best friend

Slipping into the right pair of jeans is like settling down with a dishy partner.

I remember my first trip to the US of A in the 1990s when I was hung up on the idea of easing into a low rise, Levi 501 button fly, letting it flaunt my washboard abs. What an acquisition that was for a few dollars. The iconic, straight fit, robust and rocking lines in cool denim. But then, that has been my idea of a snug fit. Fab and fierce. A boot cut that accentuates the toned muscles and, well, never lets you down.

The hiccup arrived when I grew out of its shapely contours into another size, and realised the trauma of hobbling around, hunting for that elusive fit. Stretchable jeans flatter pixie builts. Ripped ones are jr. inc. The dreadful patches never made the cut, for me, and the acid wash look was hara-kiri. Grunge rips don’t work at PTMs (parent-teacher meets) and yonder. Visibility of derriere dips and camel toes has always been a complete no-go. If that weren’t being fussy enough, there was my glowering gynaecologist frowning at the J of jeans as she believes firmly that they cup the worst possible scringing of down under.

Never mind, the hip-huggers in denim have always been a saviour, a permanent fixture in my wardrobe. We have been in a faithful relationship ever since we fell in love during my teens. Peeling off the denim, like a second skin, is now passé. Shrugging the pair off is de rigueur, as sheer comfort rules the picks. I remember when uncool jeggings arrived as a hideous cross between leggings and jeans, an absolute game spoiler. It made way for unflattering forms, like ferrets fighting in a sack. Thankfully the trend exited rapidly. Much like high-waisters and boyfriend jeans.

Shilpi Madan for DailyO

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