My Magic Jeans are on Their Last Legs…

September 25, 2009 at 1:44 am (Uncategorized)

I am in mourning. Or preparatory mourning. Because my magic jeans are dying. Magic jeans don’t come along so very often in a girl’s life, and their passing is a tragedy felt for all time. I see them fading day by day, their seams becoming weaker, the arse quite literally falling out of them, holes appearing where once there was robust denim good health, and all I can think is, “Why didn’t I buy two of you?”

Oh yes. The price.

My magic jeans were a total rip-off, don’t get me wrong. They were a birthday gift from Llewie two years ago, and they were outrageously overpriced. But at their finest they made me feel like a million bucks, and on a cost-per-wear basis, they’re the best value item in my entire wardrobe, hands-down. I love my magic jeans. Sob! I just love them so much!

The problem, of course, is that they’re dying. I have loved them too well. I’ve already taken them to Lee, my little local seamstress who never, ever fucks things up (Dragon Tailoring, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID), begging her to revive them. She obliged, giving my magic jeans second life, but now I think even Lee would pat my hand and say, “No worth it, Di-nah.”

There are different people in the world, and what a joy that is. There are jeans people and non-jeans people, shirt girls and blouse gals. I am a jeans and shirt girl. It’s not even as though I choose to be this way, it just is. It’s as much a part of me as the colour of my eyes and the length of my fingers. I can’t do anything about it – with very, very few exceptions, I just happen to feel best in jeans and a collared shirt. Okay, I run to the occasional cocktail dress when the times call for it, but pretty much nothing does it like a bitching bit o’ blue jean.

Oh, how I shall miss them.

But yesterday, love them though I do, I also kind of replaced them… It’s been a long time coming, but yesterday morning, when the zip on my boots kept snagging in one of the new holes down the left leg of my magic jeans, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped. Llew gave me shopping dosh for my birthday, basically the ideal gift aside from books (remind me to tell you about those – I got some! So exciting! So unusual! People never normally give me books, it’s weird…). I love clothes but never feel it’s in the budget to go buy any new ones, and I decided it was time to use my cold hard cash. Even though I have very few reasons to wear what I already own. Let’s face it,  I’m a writer, what do I need clothes for? No one sees me. Ever. I could work at my desk in a onesie – or a Snuggie – and no one would ever know. But occasionally a girl gets asked somewhere, and occasionally she likes to strut her slowly sagging stuff. So I needed new jeans. Straight after IVF orientation yesterday, I hit the shops with my birthday dosh.

Hot and bothered is the best way to describe how I was feeling by the time I found The Ones. Pulling my boots on and off, on and off, jeans on, jeans off, jeans sort of grafted to my thighs, steadfastly refusing to advance an inch further, jeans biting my bum, jeans in a variety of sizes, shapes and colours. Why am I a 28, a 27, a 29 and a 10? How hard can it be to standardise sizes??

“What size are they?” asked one girl, pointing down at my magic jeans.

“They’re a 28.”

“What’s the brand?”

“J and Company.”

“Right,” she said, turning to a sea of denim. “Made in the US. They’re usually a bit bigger, so I’m going to try you in a 27…”

I looked doubtfully at the jeans in her hand.

“But there’s not a lot of room left in these,” I said, feeling my magic jeans nip and pinch my stomach. “One long lunch and it’s all over.”

“Try these,” she thrust an array of jeans in my face and marched me to the change rooms. This was store number 3.

I’m going straight to David Jones next time. Those girls really know their shit. She was absolutely right about the sizing, and the first pair she chose for me were the ones I ended up buying. The other sales assistant in the change rooms was also incredibly helpful, and happy to jaw with me on such critical topics as the philosophical, existential elements of denim ownership for a full twenty or so minutes while I weighed up the different options, all the while trying to catch my arse in the act of something terrible.

After much deliberation, the decision was made. The jeans were also 30% off, making them a full quarter of the price of my magic jeans. They were so cheap I had enough birthday money left tearing a hole in my pocket that I burned over to Paddington to my good friend Sophie’s gorgeous shirt boutique – Mr. Rose – coming away (thanks to several glasses of champagne and admittedly with the assistance of a sly discount from the lovely lady of the House of Rose) with a fantastic shirt from her new collection. By the time I met up with Llew, I was wearing a shirt and a pair of jeans, that’s all, but I felt like a million bucks.


  1. Simonne said,

    On the bliss of the magic jeans! I remember mine – I had them nearly 20 years ago and I’ve never found another pair that comes close

    • doctordi said,

      I remember that post – I was nodding all the way through reading it, fondly missing magic jeans of days past…

  2. Lilian Nattel said,

    Wonderful! In my experience magic jeans are just luck, and not related to price. I’m so glad your new ones left you with $ for a shirt too. I’m not a blouse girl either, or even collared shirts–t-shirts for me.

    • doctordi said,

      Lilian, t-shirts are definitely in the mix too – they’re absolute wardrobe essentials!

  3. Pete said,

    Congrats on the magic jeans. And those good sales assistants are like gold. Great jeans are like a second skin except better.

  4. Fugitive Pieces said,

    Oh, I hate you (OK, possibly not the best opener after being away…) But you had Magic Jeans, and they died, and then you replaced them in a morning at 30% off. I am still questing for mine. Perhaps it is a form of true love, and I’m asking too much from just the one pair…
    Even the DJ’s crew sighed and said “Can’t help.” I’m six foot to start with, and the legs are most of that. Yes, it sounds fabulous, until you try to buy trousers, or shoes. I’ll have to wait ’til my UK/US trip, or possibly give a whirl. Until then, leggings and dresses. Nonetheless, bah humbug to you and your excellently-fitting wardrobe. Sniff.
    PS Happy Birthday, though! What were the books?

    • doctordi said,

      Please don’t hate me, Fugitive. Jeans are all I’ve got. But welcome back!

      Hey, I tried some really long skinny jeans that were way too long and skinny for me and what I thought was the general population – try Bettina Liano in the Strand, and I tried two brands in General Pants that were also reeeally long… what were they…? Oh, Sass & Bide, and 7s for all mankind.

      I’m going to post on my book haul today…

  5. davidrochester said,

    Fugitive Pieces — if you have any faith in online shopping, try a company called Denim Express. My six-foot Amazon ladylove, whose inseam is ludicrously long, gets her jeans there, and that’s just about the only place she’s ever been able to find jeans that fit.

    • doctordi said,

      I love a bit of Amazonian sharing and caring – thank you, Mr. Rochester!

  6. Fugitive Pieces said,

    I would say I love you, David Rochester, but I suspect your Amazon could easily kick my arse, should the impulse take her. (They also call me Amazon, but it’s just not as apposite.) I’ll have to content myself with a heartfelt thank you. Thank you. Sadly they don’t ship internationally, but I have these really useful creatures called American relatives…
    PS If your Amazon has long feet and a desire for shoes that aren’t orthotic in appearance, send her to Barefoot Tess (

  7. litlove said,

    Sigh. I’d be so happy to find a pair of jeans that didn’t fall off my hips continuously. I’m still waiting for my magic jean moment, and you’d think I’d manage to crack it, seeing that jeans are all I ever wear. Perhaps I have to kiss a lot of frog jeans to find them.

    • doctordi said,

      LL, I know some very petit people of the super-slim-hips variety who have found luck in the teen section of department stores, and a lot of the bigger denim brands do a range for younger fashionistas that may be perfect for you.

  8. woo said,

    Me, too. I would wear jeans everyday, except that I can’t find enough pairs to fit me.

    After this tip, though, I shall be off to David Jones on Thursday evening with a determined glint in my eye…


  9. jactaylor said,

    i had the world in my hands – magic jeans that came from Jeans West. so they were cheap, they were plentiful and the world was a happier place… until i went back recently to replace them, and found out that they have changed the pattern. they’re awful now. how could they? feckers!

    • Fugitive Pieces said,

      Better to have loved and lost, etc..?

    • doctordi said,

      That just sucks, Jac. Sucks! A pox on their house.

  10. doctordi said,

    That’s true, Fugitive. But parting is such sweet sorrow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: