Blue monday

There used to be a time when jeans were just trousers made from denim. Blue, casual and generally accepted. Nowadays though, buying a new pair of jeans has become a major hit on the long list of good old-fashioned pains in the ass. Still way behind coconuts, cacti and pineapples, but it has definitely overtaken walnuts and bananas.

When I enter a clothing shop, I can't help but feeling watched. No matter where I position myself, at any given moment there are at least four shop assistants keeping an eye on me, not unlike the system of GPS-satellites in orbit around the earth. This could be a personal issue, but I am pretty sure that I'm not the only one supporting the right to browse in private: shopping while someone is looking over my shoulder makes me bloody nervous. Especially because jeans shop assistants are never the ugly fat women whose advice I wouldn't care listening to. No, they are hip and gorgeous, giving me the awkward feeling that I actually need them to make sure that I don't end up with a pair of trousers which is already out of fashion. So, after a few helpless minutes between piles of potential bad buys – through a bizarre physical principle that, sadly enough, only seems to manifest itself in clothing shops – the most attractive lady usually spontaneously walks up to me.

This sounds promising, I know, but in reality it is merely the forebode of an awkward moment: what follows is the perfect combination of honey-draped sweetness and sheer professional persuasiveness, wrapped as an offer to assist you. To buy a jeans, let us keep that in mind. This is usually the point where I can barely resist the temptation to answer “Not now, thanks. But if you give me your business card, I promise you to call upon your assistance within 30 years from now, when I will be drooling my pyjamas and shitting my diaper.” Instead, I usually end up mumbling some sort of excuse, heading for the nearest exit.

Today however, I decided to give the sweet lady in front of me a chance. “Well, yes”, I said, “I would like your assistance”. Little did I know that this would lead to such a series of questions that I suddenly felt compassion for the unshaved Arab, facing the United States Border Security officer.

- What colour of jeans do you have in mind, sir?

That's a no-brainer, right?

- Erhm. Blue.

- Aquamarine blue, Prussian blue, royal blue, peacock blue, medium sky blue, Ukrainian azure, Cerulean, dark powder blue, Delft blue, cyan or midnight blue?

Say what? The 638 terahertz blue would be nice, thank you.

- May it have a slightly worn look, or not? Because we now have a collection of jeans with a used look created by sandblasting. You can choose your trousers to be blasted with Caribbean beach sand, black Greek volcanic sand or Indian quartz beach sand.

No, it may not have a worn look. Let me kindly remind you that I am here to buy a new jeans, because the ones I have at home are erhm... worn out.

- Which fit do you prefer: skinny, tapered, straight or boot-cut?

Skinny jeans, the perfect example of textile innovation gone terribly wrong: why would you even consider wearing a pair of trousers which looks like a piece of a diving suit?

- Do you prefer buttons or a zipper?

Whatever, as long as my pants does not surrender to gravity I don't really care.

It took me more than 10 questions before I was finally allowed into a changing booth, sadly enough the only place in the shop where assistance from the gorgeous fashion police officers is out of the question. And I didn't really feel like turning to the obligatory gay employee, who would obviously have loved to see me in the tightest member of the jeans family.

In the end, I didn't buy anything. Back on the streets, empty-handed. Luckily enough, blue mondays come with exceptional temperatures, sunny terraces and students wearing short jeans...