Aren’t you glad I didn’t label this post “The skinny on skinny jeans”? Gag.
I’ve had my eye on skinny jeans since last summer (my scrawled note-to-self read, “I want tapered jeans!”), but my interest morphed into full-blown obsession when I traveled to London last fall. Upon my return to the US, my Topshop skinnies (a.k.a. stovepipes, drainpipes, cigarette jeans) were essentially grafted onto my lower half. I felt– and still feel– like a rock star in those jeans, and it only took me so long to realize that one pair isn’t enough.
Since that day back in late November, I’ve become a student, if you will, of the skinny jean, and below are a couple of my findings. Now this isn’t really about brands; I wouldn’t deign to tell you all to run out and get, say, Earnest Sewn Harlans (although I wouldn’t refuse a pair myself) because we aren’t all built the same, so why should our jeans be? I just have a couple of observations about what it takes for skinny jeans to look good:
** Just because they’re thin around the calves and ankles doesn’t mean we ladies still don’t need room in the seat. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve squeezed into butt-crushing skinnies. They might be fine for you hipless wonders out there, but they’re not for me. The solution? A little stretch goes a long way (My Topshoppers have 2% stretch. So do these by J Brand).
** Not all tapers are good tapers: The contour of the leg of the skinny jean is what separates the men from the boys. Ideally, cigarette jeans really should look like cigarettes, with a firm, squared end; the taper shouldn’t just wile away into nothing. In other words, after a slender leg, there must be a minute widening at the cuff, as you can see on the skinny jean shown above. You need it to flatter the leg. Trust me on this.
Not into running out and spending upwards of 150 frosties on skinny jeans? Levi’s has a good starter pair: the Skinny 503 Jeans come in 5 washes and cost only $48.