Black Jeans and Why I Quit Band

The search for the perfect white jeans is my current beacon of spring fashion hope. Until the last few years I NEVER thought I would see (anywhere other than Goodwill), much less wear, colored denim again. Even when black and white jeans were in a long time ago, I didn't really like them.

Probably because of Homecoming circa 1997. Thanks to band, I (almost) forever banished black jeans from my wardrobe. I don't know who thought anyone would enjoy seeing the middle school band perform prior to the football game, but I'm pretty sure the only people who even watched it were the band director and our parents. But after wolfing down my afternoon snack I was forced into black jeans and a "matching" black band T-shirt, and shuttled to the high school football field.

I mean I know band geeks aren't really known for their fashion sense, but come on! Black jeans (always hopelessly faded unless brand new) and a black T? Yuck. My mom looked all over the place, for a week, for some black jeans that would fit me. She ignored my request to "just buy some really, really dark blue ones and we'll act like they're black". She finally found a winning pair of faded greenish-black ones at Goodwill. No joke. I think they were boys jeans. But they WERE sort of black and they DID sort of fit. And she thought it was a total score (Black jeans! They'll fit my shrimpy kid! 99 cents! HALLELUJAH!)

A sister pair for sale on Ebay. Mine did not have a mud stain.

I was pissed when I saw them, and distraught once I put them on with the T-shirt. I had to go to homecoming like this, sit with the band and watch the game like this,  and watch all of my friends walk to the concession stand in their cute homecoming outfits (with corsage) like this. I was SO changing into my homecoming outfit (cardigan+skirt, thank you) in the car, so I could get the dance ASAP, once the torture ended. But, omg, I was going to be lucky to have any friends left by the time this football game was over.

And that's when I decided. No more black jeans. No more black T-shirts. And no more band. I was not going to commit social suicide while looking ugly. That was for sure. I engaged in full-on damage control later that night by making sure everyone knew how much I hated band, how I wasn't doing it next year, and how hideous those outfits were.

I guess there was no permanent damage, considering I managed to salvage a few friends and slow dance 3 times that night. The long term damage, however, was done. No more black jeans for me for 13 years. I'm happy to say that today I have fully recovered. I now embrace jeans of all colors, from many different backgrounds. It was a long journey to recovery, but my life has been enriched because of it. I still don't wear black t-shirts, but that's because they are hot and scratchy.