Pain in the annual: Kicking Mule Workshop makes me gay for jeans
A year ago a pal of mine bit "the bullet" and got a pair of those pricey-ass Nudie raw selvage blah blah jeans. I was pretty jealous. I dunno, to paraphrase the disco king in Freaks & Geeks, I'm not a good looking man, but I started paying attention to how I dress, and, okay, not grooming so much, and I wound up broke with a wardrobe that was outta fashion in like 3 weeks! I dunno, most jeans have those odd wear patterns pre-made so it's only conceivably "naturally worn" by you if, say, you spurt bleach-jism and have an awful habit of clawing at your clothed thighs with gardening implements.
That's why these Kicking Mule fuckers are so great. They don't even stick stitching on the back pockets for branding. Nope. Just a little hint of brand recon via some "turned up selvage" at the "coin pocket" (see, that's not so gay sounding). I feel like a fatter, shorter James Dean! I've started rolling random things up in my shirt sleeve and pretending they're unfiltered ciggies!
It gets even better, though... much like the aforementioned dude's Nudies, being raw means I'm actually not supposed to wash these things for like a year. That's great! 'Cause like everyone, I secretly love the scent of my own fart, and that is now literally woven into the fabric of these things for all time. In the sake of rock-star fashion.
As women's fashions continue to oversmoke crack to dizzying new heights of excess (this year's legging revival, especially when they started dabbling in stirrups, and next years ultra high waists, and to the person that figured out how to breed banthas for footwear-hide, good work, man [like how I used the geek reference to attempt to deflect your attention from the fact that I know about current ladieswear trends? Did it work?]) it is good to know that I am not expected to dress like Sinbad or John Leguizamo in "The Pest". I spend enough time cultivating antisocial tendencies without having to actively shun hobbled styles.
So thank you Kicking Mule, for letting me spend more than I care to admit on a pair of jeans that I really do like a lot. Because they justfit smell right.
That's why these Kicking Mule fuckers are so great. They don't even stick stitching on the back pockets for branding. Nope. Just a little hint of brand recon via some "turned up selvage" at the "coin pocket" (see, that's not so gay sounding). I feel like a fatter, shorter James Dean! I've started rolling random things up in my shirt sleeve and pretending they're unfiltered ciggies!
It gets even better, though... much like the aforementioned dude's Nudies, being raw means I'm actually not supposed to wash these things for like a year. That's great! 'Cause like everyone, I secretly love the scent of my own fart, and that is now literally woven into the fabric of these things for all time. In the sake of rock-star fashion.
As women's fashions continue to oversmoke crack to dizzying new heights of excess (this year's legging revival, especially when they started dabbling in stirrups, and next years ultra high waists, and to the person that figured out how to breed banthas for footwear-hide, good work, man [like how I used the geek reference to attempt to deflect your attention from the fact that I know about current ladieswear trends? Did it work?]) it is good to know that I am not expected to dress like Sinbad or John Leguizamo in "The Pest". I spend enough time cultivating antisocial tendencies without having to actively shun hobbled styles.
So thank you Kicking Mule, for letting me spend more than I care to admit on a pair of jeans that I really do like a lot. Because they just
posted by Quincy Hoist at 8:19 PM
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