Are back, unfortunately. About eight out of ten students are wearing jeans and out of these eight, at least three of them will have jagged gaping holes along the leg. How sad. How depressing. Another reason to feel nostalgic for the start of fall semester last year.
It is interesting that I find myself hating these ripped jeans now as much as I did when this pseudo-slum, pretend-poor, pretend-I-don’t-care fashion first spread amongst the youth: it was in the late ‘eighties, and I was a high school student wearing thick glasses, big chunky cardigans and black cords somewhere the in north of England. One morning, everybody came to school with torn jeans. And they were eagerly describing to each other the techniques they used to achieve a really frayed, authentic-looking tear. I can still remember one girl (her name was Anna and she had long black hair) boasting that her jeans really got torn in the washing-machine, and thus was somehow better than all those artificial tears created by fashion-unconscious classmates.
I say interesting because in other regards, my clothes-sense has much changed. I no longer wear chunky cardigans, nor indeed, thick glasses. A crepe-de-chine dress with turquoise-blue and fuschia-pink zebra stripes is no longer the highlight of my wardrobe. I do not have a weakness for long floral frilly skirts. I do not spend a whole day shopping for denim dungarees which subsequently become my favourite item of clothing. Thankfully there are almost no photos of me from those days.
But some things never change. I still wear funny-looking hats whenever I can. And I still hate ripped jeans.