Towards A Theory Of White Jeans

1. I’ve been having a recurring daydream that I cannot share, it is too embarrassing, but let’s just say it involves arriving at an airport in a city I would never, ever visit of my own accord specifically to visit a friend who is there for no reason. And my daydreams always, always center around an outfit, let’s get that out of the way, and in this dream I am wearing my favorite t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, my new-ish white shoes, a red flannel shirt tied around my waist, and a pair of white jeans rolled up just a little above my ankle.

2. I do not own white jeans.

3. But. Should I own white jeans?

4. In either 2003 or 2004, who can remember such details, I worked at a very fancy denim store in a very fancy neighborhood of Toronto. When I started, one of the managers told us that white jeans were “tacky.” By the end of that first summer, white jeans were “bold.” That was the first time I’d ever heard of Laver’s Law — another employee who was a fashion student mentioned it in a kind of offhand way — and since then I think about it probably once a week.

5. For a long time I wore only black. When you’re a makeup artist you wear black to hide the stains on your clothing. Also because wearing all black is cool, duh. When I got my first real job I remember telling my new manager I was excited to start wearing colors again; I never did. With very, very few exceptions, my wardrobe stayed dark: black and navy, sometimes an occasional grey or leopard print, until this winter, when I bought very pale blue jeans and an icy white-blue coat.

6. I know the color theories about white and black. Black is dark, mysterious, maybe evil. White is light and pure and open. This, like most theories purporting to explain naturally-occurring aesthetics, is coded bullshit.

7. Scientifically speaking, however, black is not really a color. It is the absence of light. White, as any high school art teacher will tell you, is technically all colors. White reflects off the entire spectrum of colors that the human eye can see.

8. I own a pair of black jeans. There’s a hole in the crotch because I’ve worn them so much.

9. In the past few months I’ve started to be drawn to light colors again, even though this is absolutely the worst time of year to do so — sudden rain storms and the resulting puddles that never seem to dry, meeting friends to sit in grassy parks, sidewalks just strewn with summer garbage, makeup that melts off your face and rests right at the collar of a crisp white t-shirt, leaving that ring of pigment around your neck.

10. I think I’m less interested in white as a representation of purity — ew — than I am as a kind of dare. “Come at me, universe. Do your worst.” It’s impractical. It’s decadent.

11. Yesterday I told Alex I had been doing some research and found a pair of promising white jeans at Uniqlo; they were priced at $20, which, I told her, seemed like the appropriate amount to spend on such a ridiculous item. “Haley,” she said, “I love you, but there is no way I believe you are capable of spending only $20 at Uniqlo.”

12. In the (terrible) lighting of that change room, the jeans didn’t even look white; kind of a greyish-yellow, no doubt reflecting the fluorescent light bulbs that were perhaps making the jeans appear transparent. Like, you could see my underwear through them.

13. I looked like a painter. I didn’t really mind.

14. I can neither confirm nor deny the veracity of the existing White Jeans Theory.

15. I stood in the change room for a long, long time, weighing the daydream outfit against the white jeans reflected via very unflattering mirror.

16. I didn’t buy white jeans.

17. But should I?