On stealing your boyfriend's jeans

Monday, January 05, 2015

Shoes: Gap | Denim: Gap, men's (thanks Trevor) | Shirt: Anthropologie | Scarf: NastyGal
Purse: Philip Lim for Target | Hat: H&M 

My first pair of "boyfriend" jeans was a pair from Gap Kids, bought for me by my Mom. They were a medium blue, with thin knees I would soon blow out, and they said "Husky" in the back tag. Really. "Husky" was an actual fit that Gap Kids sold, and my giant 10-year old hips did not fit in anything else. On one hand I loathed them and felt terribly out of place among the stick-thin girls I went to school with. But on the other end of the spectrum, I was happy to not be squeezing into skin-tight flare jeans - and my Husky jeans lent themselves well to pickup basketball and hours in the garden with my Mom. 

Now I'm 27 and no longer remotely embarrassed by my hips (sidenote: stay tuned for my upcoming post about a dude who found me and my butt THOROUGHLY shame-worthy on New Year's Eve). I love a great pair of skinnies, but there is an undeniable magic & sass that comes over me when I'm in boyfriend jeans - like I'm still ready at any moment for a pickup game, or rolling down a grassy hill, or building a fort in the woods.

I have an awesome pair of my own (seen here, here, and here), but I've just discovered that my boyfriend's jeans also fit me like a glove. I love the faded spots where his wallet usually sits, the perfect cuffs on the bottom, the stiff denim. I still love my own, but he's going to have to keep this pair under careful lock & key if he ever wants to wear them again . . . 

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