Blue jeans

When I wake up in the mornin' light
I pull on my jeans and I feel all right
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on,
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on.

--David Dundas

This week's Economist magazine carries a short feature article on that great American icon, Levi's jeans.  I found myself reading it slouched in a chair with the magazine balanced on my -- of course --blue jeans.

The article was prompted by an exhibit at the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco, celebrating the life and accomplishments of Levi Strauss.  Levi was an immigrant -- yes, an immigrant! -- from Bavaria.  He found a market for tough denim pants among the farmers and miners and laborers of early California, and his jeans, held together by copper rivets, were soon adopted by cowboys and other horseback riders.  By the time I came along, they were becoming a favorite choice for children and teenagers, as well.

But not for me.  I must at sometime have worn jeans as a kid, but my mother considered them workman's clothes, not appropriate for the children of a family with middle class aspirations.  In summer, I wore shorts for "play," up until about seventh grade, but not jeans.  In all my class photos, I seem to be wearing corduroys, which is also what I remember wearing.  (I especially remember the common sight of corduroy cuffs after they had been caught and ground up in my bicycle chain.)

My "cords" came in varying colors -- but mainly white or brown.  They also came in "salt and pepper," which I also sometimes wore, although those usually were considered a feature of parochial school uniforms.

In high school, I still wore cords, but other types of pants as well.  But rarely, if ever, jeans.  Not to school.  In college, I remember wearing a pair of jeans on one occasion, and having someone exclaim, "Wow!  Harrison in jeans?"  It seems odd in retrospect.

Once past my undergraduate years, however, I wore jeans -- usually Levi's -- routinely.  Once we were into the Sixties, jeans -- "levis" now with a small "l" -- had lost their working man's association, and had become the cool thing for young people to wear.  If not "cool," at least totally accepted.  And once I began practicing law, the first thing I did when I got home from work was ditch my suit and "pull my blue jeans on."

Now, as a retired gentleman, well into his dotage, I wear virtually nothing but jeans.  By way of pants, I mean, of course.  Usually not Levi's brand.  For some reason, I've ended up shopping at the Gap.  Gap jeans come in several styles, and when I'm shopping I can never remember which one it is that I prefer.  I have three pairs at present that I rotate -- Skinny, Slim, and Straight.  I think it's "Slim" that I prefer, but who can remember, from day to day?

My dotage, as I noted.

The Economist notes that Levi's are now worn around the world.

Marilyn Monroe wore Levi's; Andy Warhol immortalized them. Even Albert Einstein was spotted in a Levi's bomber jacket. Jeans that graced the haunches of the famous -- including Patti Smith, Madonna, and Beyoncé -- fill the gallery and span the decades.

If blue jeans, whatever the make, were good enough for Einstein, they're good enough for me.