Blue is my world when I'm without you, Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

My old blue jeans. The ones I'm unnaturally attached to. They were the reason of my last relationship. We were both wearing Calvin Kleins in the same wash. We bonded over our pants. (Hush, you.)

I was also wearing them the night my ex-boyfriend came up behind me in a bar and breathed into my ear, "Your ass doesn't look like a perfect peach, it looks like a perfect apple."

"Is that better?" I asked without turning around.

"Mmm."

I told all this to Erin.

She sighed, "You might have to spend some extra money and go to the other mall."

"Not Phipps!"

"Yes, Phipps."

"You know how expensive Phipps is?"

"Yes, but they have people who work there for a living, not just for after school jobs. They know what they're doing. You go in there and pick a store and tell them what you want-"

"Like jeans that cover my ass and don't bunch around the ankles?"

"I hate that new style!"

"Damn skinny jeans."

"So yeah, find a store in Phipps and they'll help you out."

"I'm so sick of this."

"I know."

So I drove there. A girl couldn't be seen walking into Phipps; she had to arrive in style. And by style, I mean a 1998 Explorer. But it has leather.

I passed Gucci and Versace. Paused momentarily and drooled at Tiffany's (oddly the title Capote didn't go for). Maybe I could forget about the blue jeans and get a tiny tiny diamond. Then I remembered my priorities and passed Tiffany's as well.

There is was: Lucky Jeans. They had a curtain of blue jeans hanging in the window; this was the place. I walked in and tried to discreetly examine a price tag.

"Can I help you?"

I was caught like a kid with his hand in the candy barrel. I dropped the tag, cursing that I never got to see the price. He was a nice looking man, but I was on a mission.

"Yes. I am looking for blue jeans. Low rise. And by low rise I mean right below the belly button, not right above the pubic hair."

He stifled a laugh.

"And nothing tight. I do not want to see the word, 'stretch.' And none of the new style with the 80's ankles."

He nodded, smiling. "This isn't your first place is it?"

"This isn't even my first week for this pair of jeans."

He led me to a shelf marked "Sundown." They were available in every shade. "What size are you? he asked."

I squinted at the jeans and panicked. They were all in boy sizes. Shit. "Um, I don't know."

You look about a 28," he said. "Now what color wash?"

"Not acid wash. I actually like them kind of dark."

His face lit up. He crouched down to the bottom shelf and grabbed a pair that looked almost black. "These just came in last week. It's a brand new color. I love them."

He unfolded the jeans and they didn't look as black as they originally did on the shelf. "Um, okay." And then pointing to the next pair not as dark, "And those too."

In the dressing room I tried the lighter of the two pair on. They fit better than anything I had previously tried on, but they were still a bit hippie (not in a bell-bottom way, only ladies will understand). I looked at the price tag: $90. Sadly, I pulled the jeans off.

Then I grabbed the new hip pair so dark I fade into the night, ninja-style. I put them on. Just then, the ceiling busted open and an angel appeared singing with a harp in her arms. God's light shone down on me in the Lucky dressing room in Phipps Mall. This was it. The perfect pair. I've never had a pair of jeans that fit me so well; it was like they used my body to design those jeans.

"Everything all right in there?"

The ceiling closed back up and the angel fled. "Yeah, I have a question though." I pulled back the curtain. "I had two pairs of jeans in the same style and the same size. Why do they fit me differently?"

"Even though they are the same cut, each pair is made separately," he explained. He pointed to my holy jeans, "Those were made a different time than the others, so they might differ slightly, altering the fit. They are all priced differently too even though they are the same style."

I grabbed the tag: $115. "These are more than the others!"

"Remember, they just came out."

I had no choice but to get the heavenly pair. With tax it was $120. I just spent $120 on blue jeans. $120 on an article of clothing deemed not suitable to wear to work.

But as you see, I had no choice.