My history with jeans in general, and Levi’s in particular, is a winding road.
In the Soviet childhood, you don’t just own a pair of Levi’s — or any jeans, for that matter. There was a black market for jeans. In the late 80s–early 90s, my family was lucky, as we had distant relatives in the U.S., and we sometimes got parcels with food and some clothes from them. Then my family traveled too, before and after the USSR collapse, and I vividly remember at least two pairs of Levi’s that I had: straight/slim corduroy reds and pinks. Fancy, right?
In the immediate post-Soviet times, good jeans were hard to fine and extremely expensive (well, under the circumstances of poverty, that 90% of population was living with, everything was expensive and out of reach). The markets were where a lot of people bought clothes, and they were overflowing with fake Diesel, and Mustang, and what have you. I almost never had to go through the ordeal of looking for something there, in muddy rows of these clothing and shoes, and the “fitting rooms” behind the self-assembled curtains with dirty mirrors. Thanks to my mom who, during out time living abroad, was wise to (a) choose quality items even for a kid, and (b) buy things for me to wear as I grow. I’m still immensely thankful to her for this. I wasn’t dressed in the latest fashion of the town. But I had my Levi’s pants and jackets.
From one of my first jobs, I saved up (yes, saved up) to buy my “first” pair of Levi’s. I remember they were black, skinny, in the 900 series (I’m thinking 911s, but now I’m not completely sure). This might not be the smartest move — after all, remember this was still the time when the “real thing” was crazy expensive, but I wore them with joy and pride, and a lot of brand awareness.
When the “dark times” passed, as I had more freedom with my money (and more of “my own money”, making a living), and as the consumer market exploded, there were all sorts of other jeans. Levi’s stopped being the most-wished-for unicorn. There were Calvin Kleins, and Diesels, and then jeans were just… jeans. Just casual pants that you buy without even much thinking.
A couple of years ago, I went without jeans at all, for a year. Well, I had one pair of white jeans, and wore it only occasionally (in my view, it doesn’t count). It went easier than I imagined, after all, I wasn’t as hooked up on jeans as before, there were plenty other options, and my style has changed significantly, too. Today, as I have recovered from the half-life on predominantly wearing only jeans, I know I can survive on dresses if I want to. And that’s when I go back to the Levi’s store, without the reverence I’d have as a teenager. But that’s a prerogative of a lot of things during the teenage years, so I guess it’s long lost anyway. Without the reverence, but still, with joy of getting me something affordable and desired.
“Affordable and desired” is the happiness formula — something that you can have, and that you can afford. Something that won’t clutter your life, but will become a good possession, helping, nice, not treasured as much as not to use, but used with care.