I'm loving this whole super-cable-broadband, got-lots-of-time-to-blog situation here… long may this live.
On a few occasions on the blog, I've touched upon my woes with denim. Or specifically with jeans. I may be completely repeating myself here but did I ever tell you the story of when I first went to New York all by my lonesome self when I was 18 and decided that in the denim mecca of The Big Apple, I'd find the jeans that were meant to be. I hadn't been able to get to grips with jeans beforehand in London despite several attempts but in New York, it would be different. These jeans would come calling out to me with brigh neon lights with possibly a pair of shiny sneakers and a fat juicy hot dog trailing behind (can you tell that city cliches deeply affect me?)
So into the Broadway (I believe?) store of Levi's I went, hope a-brimming. A young chap with *swoon* lots of floopy hair (I dug that back then…) came bounding up and something to the effect of this convo ensued… (bearing in mind, I know nothing about denim-speak or Levi's models so this isn't verbatim but it was definitely something to this effect…)
He: How can I help you miss?
Me: Well, uh, I'm looking for…err…a pair of jeans…
He:… ah well, you've come to the right place… we have… bootcut, slim, flared, skinny (replace these words with Levi's models as I don't actually know them properly…) *motioning to different parts of the really really high shelves*
Me: …. err… slim? Not too tight?
He: Bootcut? Slim? Flared? Skinny?
Me:… something in between?
He: What wash would you like?
Me: I'm still confused about those numbers you just called out…
He: Bootcut? Slim? Flared? Skinny?
Me: Err… what about the err.. colour?
He: You mean the wash?
… and so and so forth… it was quite literally the most nonsensical conversation I've ever had with a sales assistant, all because he had a ton of denim knowledge and I had none. In my head, I think I may have recalled Daisy Steiner from Spaced screeching "Oh why don't you just leave me ALONE?" It wasn't the poor chap's fault…he just happened to be bundled with the lame-o who knew nothing about jeans.
Anyway, I'm about to reconcile my shady past with Levi's with a happy medium. One that doesn't involve numbers or washes. Opening Ceremony have thrown the gauntlet down for the most unlikely-yet-right-on collab prize by pairing up with Levi's (more about the collab here) for a co-branded range of fine-wale (the post title, geddit…) corduroy shirts, jackets, and shorts in a colour palette that made me think of happy clappy tween clothes, in a good way… The peeps in New York were kind enough to let me loose on this spring-drenched range as a preview of the collection. Little did they know that I'd also be doing an excorcist act on my past unhappy experiences with denim labels.
With this in mind, I escaped to the Kentish coast for the weekend and with me came an abundance of corduroy dipped in my favourite Crayola/gel-ink/felt tip pens that can't possibly be worn with a frown. Well, maybe a Ryan McGinley-shot frown but for me, I kept on thinking about really smiley 90s kids/tweens clothing ads that I sucked in as I traipsed around Brent Cross Shopping Centre seeking out chenille knits and polo necks.
If you scroll really fast, a rainbow will formulate.
Actually that's a lie. I'm not claiming a special effect of web 3.0 calibre will pop out at you.
I just meant there are lots of COLOURS…
Obviously, I was limited in my outfit choices given I'm on to go with this stuff but this was afterall an excorcist act involving clothes, some really really cold sun and a pinch of the past.