I have a denim issue

On the average night the two pairs of jeans in my wardrobe are enough choice for basically any situation, my options are always between the one pair which has the rain-mold smell on them from the day I sat in the bleachers during a god-damn typhoon at Fenway Park and the other pair which has a knee tear that Sebastian Bach would have been proud of. Most nights this is fine but last night was one of those nights where I did not want to be the one a-hole who couldn't get into the bar because my jeans had an aura of homelessness around them and I’m not ready to be the guy who wears khaki’s in any social setting.

So with my options limited, I decide to run out and buy a new pair of jeans


The decision to get a new pair was probably wise but I was running late and there was no time to venture into the City to hit a GAP. Instead I walk into some fancy men's boutique clothing shop and head straight to the collection of jeans in the back of the store. I quickly realize that very much like the first time I played craps, I was completely out of my league, there wasn't a single pair of jeans under the price of $100 on the rack and if that isn’t bad enough most of them had some kind of weird embroidery on the ass.

Clerk asks if I need help as I clumsily fumble with a few pairs trying desperately to find something that doesn’t have three digits on the price tag. Conversation goes something like this


Righetti: so anything in the $40 range?

Clerk: our least expensive pair of jeans is $120,

Righetti: huh?

Clerk: you are in a designer jean shop, we don't deal in mass produced jeans. When you buy jeans here you’re looking for something that fits your figure

Righetti: ????

Clerk: when you buy a pair of real jeans, they should fit you perfectly. There are many types of jeans but these jeans aren’t for throwing a football around in, these are for going out. This is when you want to stand out, a real pair of jeans gets you laid

Righetti: (realizing that I’m on the wrong side of a losing argument but desperate) so nothing for like $50 bucks?

Clerk : No

Righetti: tell me about this getting laid thing?

Clerk: a real pair of jeans extenuates you where it counts and hides the parts that are flawed, mass produced jeans look like....well (looking down at the hip-hop things I got on) you know.


Now I realize that I have to be on the subway in less than an hour and there is just no time to run over to the GAP and back. My desperation is probably pretty obvious as I take a deep breath and try to not look completely overwhelmed. He asks what I’m looking for and I tell him that I’d like to get something sort of loose fitting and comfortable probably not realizing the irony of being the one jackoff who comes into a boutique shop to buy a pair of jeans they sell at Target.


He hands me about $2000 worth of denim and I walk into the fitting room and the transformation from a guy who watches football on a Sunday afternoon at an Irish Bar to a guy who needs a fucking shoehorn to get his jeans on is just about complete..


Now not only am I trying on jeans that costs more than anything in my wardrobe including my new suit but the most depressing part is that I have these gigantic thunder-thighs which basically makes 99% of these designer jeans impossible to even get on. This is the reason I always have to buy my jeans two sizes to big because otherwise I feel like they're pinching my nut-sack the entire day.


I try on a par and walk out of the fitting room into the shop and now I feel like one of those fashion shows on Bravo. Both the clerk and another customer critique the fit of every pair I try on and then hand me a new pair to try. This goes on for an exhausting 45 minutes till I finally give in and pick out the one pair, the one pair which don't feel like they are painted on.


Hanging my head in defeat I walk over to the register and hand over my VISA card, I go to sign my credit card receipt and as I stare at the $129 receipt, I realize that I don't even recognize myself anymore. I thought that I was the guy who wears a Creedence Clearwater shirt on Saturday’s not the guy who is willing to sacrifice sperm-count for fashion.


One Hundred and Twenty Nine Dollars and forty three fucking cents for a pair of jeans, has the world gone completely insane?