Here Come The Fancy Pants

By Belinda Luscombe

If Betsy Ross were designing the American flag today, her task would be much simpler. She could just hoist a pair of old jeans up the flagpole. Egalitarian, utilitarian and rugged, jeans project the American sensibility. And as a standard bearer of America's global dominance, they stride where even Coca-Cola fears to tread. But recently jeans have become something else as well. They have become expensive, elitist and European.

Jeans today can cost thousands of dollars and regularly sell for hundreds. Even Levi's can run you $300. Once the classic fallback answer for the daily question of what to wear, jeans now pose an even bigger question: Which ones? Stone washed, distressed, low rise, sanded, boiled, whiskered, shredded, patched, relaxed fit, straight leg, boot leg, flare or with personally customized finish? The notion that jeans are the color they have faded to is passe. At the Gap they have run from "blasted bluegrass" to "moonlight." Next season there will be 15 more hues (or "washes," as they are called) to choose from--all blue.

And for those inside the vintage-leather beltway of fashion, there are cognoscenti labels. Earl jeans, generally deemed the harbingers of the low-rise trend, have had to make way for those made by Seven, the ultimate insider jeans, with a discreet label, no advertising and a monthly production limited to 100,000 pairs. Then there are dozens of little labels: Miss Sixty, Juicy Jeans, Paper Denim. "It's a wild thing from a fashion standpoint to keep up with this," says Robert Burke, senior fashion director at Bergdorf Goodman. "Consumers move on with these brands very quickly. It's become a huge business for everyone."

The hippest purveyor of premium jeans these days is Diesel, an Italian brand that was selling $100-plus jeans back when people were predicting denim's demise. Diesel now offers 25 cuts and 100 washes. "Jeans are like a second skin," says Maurizio Marchiori, Diesel's U.S. head of marketing. "You can be comfortable and individual at the same time. They'll never die."

Levi's, initially caught with its pants down by the denim developments, is now making extremely limited-run jeans, mimicking those in its archive. One style, called Rose Bowl, is copied from a pair of 1933 jeans found at a Rose Bowl flea market. Another, Picket Sign, replicates a pair of '30s jeans down to the paint spatters. Some styles will have manufacturing runs of as few as 50 pairs. Both Levi's and Diesel have opened high-end specialized stores. Diesel will launder its $200 jeans free to maintain the color. New Levi's arrive every six to eight weeks to keep up with quicksilver consumer loyalty.

Of course, people who buy expensive denim pants spend less than 3% of the money shelled out annually for jeans. But the fashion industry uses those early adapters to determine what will be offered to the masses the following season. So the individualized-jeans trend is moving inexorably toward the mainstream. Meanwhile, in the mainstream, everyone is wearing--surprise!--jeans. As the two trends merge, jeans become the everyclothing--suitable for opera or shopping. "They've transcended the weekend," says Burke. And crossed the age gap: "A 50- or 60-year-old wants to wear jeans now."

But the question remains: Why, of all the styles designers hurl down the runway, did jeans catch on as chic? If dressing is a form of self-expression, jeans articulate what Americans want to say now. "People want authenticity," says Andrew Bolton, associate curator at the Costume Institute. "That's why vintage jeans--with that lineage back to the miners--have a huge appeal." While jeans always suggest ordinariness and comfort, they're now also a style vehicle. At a time when it seems superficial to be thinking about clothes, jeans allow individuality without ostentation. They're a uniform, without being uniform. --With reporting by Andrea Sachs

With reporting by Andrea Sachs