I have committed one felony in my fifteen and a half years of life: perjury. Amid the plethora of paperwork that the DMV requires one to fill out before receiving a driver’s permit is a fragment of text demanding to know the color of one’s hair. I am filled with shame whenever I remember inking in the five letters that would forever mark me as a criminal under U.S. law. Indeed, whenever I glance at my permit, I see the letters “BLOND” superimposed on my vision, causing my face to heat and a weighted dread to settle on my shoulders. Dear Reader, my hair is bro … br … br

. . ooow . . w . . I cannot even force my fingers to type such an awful truth. Truly, I mean no offense to those of you with cocoa or coffee or hazelnut colored locks. I just cannot relinquish my childhood notion of golden summer highlights and hair so light it drips sunlight. I suppose that part of me wants to live in California. I want to live on the beach and drink the sun like the dune grass. I want to learn how to surf and eat avocados for every meal. I want to wear jean shorts and a bikini top everywhere, and I want summer highlights for all seasons. Actually, since I am a fugitive from the Virginia government, perhaps I should relocate to California. In that case, I need a getaway driver, tinted sunglasses, and cold, hard cash. Or gold. Gold works too. (To apply to be a getaway driver, please call (804)999-9999. Requirements: drivers license, can be forged; inconspicuous vehicle; and at least one skull tattoo). I believe that I would trade all the golden highlights and golden summer mornings on the beach for a chunk of real, solid gold. Alas, my avarice is boundless, but, in my defense, I would not be the only person to give up everything they hold dear for this shiny metal. I ask you to travel back in time with me, to a period before cell phones, before Brooke Shields, before Woodstock and the World Wars and jazz music, before jeans themselves even existed. And, since we are travelling through time, we might as well venture through space, too. 

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Sacramento, CA. 1848. January. James Marshall was West. Way West. He was quite possibly further West than he had ever travelled before. Marshall had been slowly moving West across the United States since he was twenty four, and now, with fewer than a hundred miles separating him from the Pacific, he had few other places to go. Marshall had finally settled in present day Sacramento, where he was working as a carpenter for a John Sutter. Sutter, an immigrant with German roots, wanted to build a sawmill by harnessing the power of the American River so that he could cut felled trees into sellable pieces of wood. Marshall was busy building one bright morning when he noticed several small, shiny chips in the river. Upon closer inspection, these chips were revealed to be gold. Marshall rushed to tell Sutter. The two men decided to keep Marshall’s discovery a secret, as they knew rumours of gold would bring trespassers and ruin Sutter’s industrial plans. Unfortunately, secrets have a sneaky way of spreading, and, almost like parasites, the news jumped from one host to the next. Soon, people were flocking west, and the population boomed. In 1949 alone, ninety thousand people would move to California. Those who came early were able to pan the river silt for gold pieces. However, this supply of gold was soon exhausted, and so sifters gave way to pickaxes and work moved underground. 

The life of a miner was difficult and dirty. Their clothes soiled quickly and wore faster, ripping apart by the seams. There was nothing glamorous about being a 49er. However, one invention, designed for bottom class labourers, would eventually infiltrate haute couture and become a staple of wardrobes across the world. That’s right, the blue jean. 

More than twenty years after James Marshall discovered the first gold pieces in California, a tailor named Jacob Davis would create the gold of the fashion industry. Davis added rivets to strengthen the seams on pants. The increased durability made the pants incredibly popular with labourers, and so Davis, who lacked the necessary capital to secure a patent, asked his fabric supplier for help. Levi Strauss agreed, and in 1873 the pair officially received their patent, allowing them to monopolize the market for blue jeans. ‘Scuse me, waist overalls. The term blue jean did not appear until much later. Interestingly, the two originally created two styles, one from traditional blue denim and another from brown canvas. Dear reader, I will let you guess which one was more popular. Hint: how many people do you see in brown canvas pants? For comparison, according to a study conducted by Danny Miller, about fifty percent of most world populations wear jeans on a normal day. Other than underwear and the T-shirt, I can think of no other article of clothing with the same versatility and ubiquity. 

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At the end of the 19th century, jeans were still a long way from the universal wardrobe and an even longer way from the runway. When Strauss’s patent expired in 1890, other brands rushed to create their own versions of Davis’s invention. While they were popular, the market for these pants was still based in Western hard labor. This began to change during World War I, when jeans were issued to American soldiers. Then, in the twenties and thirties, Hollywood dressed handsome cowboys in jeans. And BAM! All of a sudden, jeans were attractive. Or, in the words of Vogue Magazine, jeans were “Western chic”. 

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Meanwhile, jeans had been gaining popularity among women. Shots of Ginger Rogers and other famous female movie stars in denim prompted more women to give jeans a try. By 1942, denim was being used as a fashion fabric for women; Claire McCardell created a denim dress for housewives and sold thousands. In later years, denim would become a symbol of gender equality for women. Eventually, jeans would grow out of their political and social ties and become, in a word, sexy. 

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In 1953, The Wild One was released. This film starred Marlon Brando wearing -you guessed it- blue jeans. IMDb summarizes the film: “[T]wo rival motorcycle gangs terrorize a small town after one of their leaders is thrown in jail”. Hmmm. Interesting. Blue jeans seem a lot more … dangerous? Rebellious? Dare I say- countercultural? And indeed, as the fifties bled into the sixties, jeans were associated with countercultural movements such as rock ‘n roll and the hippie movement. August Wilson describes the sixties as “turbulent, racing, dangerous, and provocative”, and, as denim gained political and cultural significance, it began to reflect the wildness of the times.

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Denim experienced its peak at the end of the 20th century. This can be largely credited to two things: marketing and jeans’ increased sex-appeal. Gloria Vanderbuilt used her fame to launch a line of jeans. Gorgeous Brooke Shields appeared on television in a pair of jeans and insinuated that she was not wearing underwear. Model Claudia Shiffer featured in jeans advertisements not wearing very much at all. Designer jeans appeared for the first time. Jeans were sold distressed; rips, fraying hems, holes, and discoloration became the norm. Hip hop popularized low slung jeans. Then high waisted jeans came back into the spotlight. Jean styles continue to fade in and out of fashion. Jeans as a whole, however, stay firmly rooted in the world’s fashion closet. 

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I love jeans because they tell stories. As a writer and aspiring fashion designer, I live to tell stories. I have been raised to love them. The perfect pair of jeans cannot be bought at a store; they must be worn first. Jeans are, quite simply, a canvas for our lives. They tell our stories. They are an expression of self and are at the same time universal and individual. Jeans are the epitome of fashion because they truly reflect the spirit of the person wearing them. I dragged you on this long story, from my criminal past to the gold soaked rivers of California to a pair of pants, because I love long stories.