Is there anything more American than JEANS!? Created by an immigrant and popularized during the Gold Rush, jeans are the bread and butter of American Fashion, perhaps the only truly bipartisan item of clothing. They are also the bread and butter of my personal wardrobe, where I own a whopping 13 pairs that I’ve spent years hunting for.
My first real relationship was with a man who bore a passing emotional resemblance to Billy Evans from You Can See Everything. During the golden moments of our courtship, we visited his hometown of Happy Valley in the Bay Area (one of those great examples of the grander the name, the more debased the place), and we drove across waterways and past temperate forests until we stumbled upon something far more interesting to me than the natural landscape: a small store, run by an elderly man, filled with Levi’s. He had every color, make, and model, all collected from their home state of San Francisco.
Into this geriatric denim slingers calloused hands, I gave myself. I tried on hundreds of jeans, and my ex-boyfriend and I emerged with two pairs, each for about $120 dollars (that’s right: I dated a man with a 26-inch waist, and we shared pants), one a steel-blue wash and one so deep bluerple it flirted with concord. When we broke up, we split custody of the jeans. He took the light wash, and I took the dark, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about them.
Often, when shopping, there is the complicated discomfort of expansiveness: Am I this person? Is this who I want to be? Do I like this because I have my own sense of style, or are the mysterious fashion forces manipulating me? There is a feeling that denim should be UNCOMPLICATED. Jeans either fit or they don’t. They either look good or they don’t. Yet, as with most uncomplicated things in life—like reading a book or changing the sheets on your bed—they are actually very complicated! Reading a book is one of the most complicated and emotionally ruinous things you could do to yourself. Changing your linens often requires wrestling a duvet or considering the implications of a bed skirt. Are you going to chase the baggy-pants craze or contemplate the skinny jeans?
Let’s talk about new-wave denim.
Shay Gallagher is a true-blue jeanhead.
If you spot Shay Gallagher on the streets downtown you can be sure she’s wearing a killer pair of jeans. I first interviewed her years ago for AirMail about Lucky Jewel, the shopping phenomenon Shay, Lola Dement Myers, and Olive Woodward created postgrad. Everything Shay touches turns to gold, and now Shay’s back to tell me about her new jean store, One Thousands.
NICOLAIA RIPS: Tell me about One Thousands.
SHAY GALLAGHER: It started as my personal quest for perfect jeans. So many times, I found jeans that I thought would be perfect on me, and they’re not, but they’re perfect for someone else. My favorite thing to do when I travel is buy jeans. I’ve accumulated so many.
How many jeans do you personally own?
Before I started One Thousands, it was around 30 pairs. But now I think I have a solid 15 that I will not be letting go of.
What makes a great pair of jeans to you?
I really care about a long inseam. I’m like 5’9, so I love a 34-inch inseam, which is harder to find than you would think. I like a low rise and a very straight leg, kind of fitted in the thighs, but then around an eight-inch leg opening.
What do you look for when you’re sourcing?
I look for genuinely distressed jeans. I always look for low rise, long inseam, 100% cotton. Sometimes I can accept a little stretch if it’s like the perfect skinny jean. I like Italian jeans because I think they look good on the butt, and I like unique washes. I like nice whiskering and unique distressing details.
You actually designed jeans for a while under Lucky Jewel. How has that influenced how you think about denim?
Lucky Jewel was really about the quest for the perfect low-rise jean that was also good for butt, and they were mostly bumpsters. I think the zipper was maybe two, two and a half inches. Now I’m just trying to find jeans that are similar in that silhouette but vintage.
What are your favorite denim brands and designers?
For new brands, I really like Raimundo and EB Denim. Vintage, I love Diesel.
What’s your least favorite denim trend?
Factory-distressed jeans.
Light wash or dark?
Dark wash.
Baggy or skinny?
Skinny.
What are your future plans for your shop?
I’ll be selling in person soon, and my next drop is going to be December 11!
Thalo denim: I could spend a million words on Thalo denim. I. Love. Thalo. If you don’t want to do the dirty of vintage jean shopping, just buy Thalo. They have two models and two colors. That is more than enough. I own both Indigo and True Blue in the original model. It is the pair of pants I get the most compliments on. I think they basically took the Levi’s 501s and reverse-engineered them for more tush and thigh room, ending the dreaded thigh-squeeze-but-waist-gap scenario that comes with wearing 501s. All I want is that gamine, straight-down boy-jean effect, and these, by some magic, give me that… while also cupping my ass in a perfect blue scoop.
Nudie Jeans: I also have two pairs of jeans from Nudie (thank you to my high school friend Clare Maceda for putting me onto them in a moment of “all hope is lost, nothing fits me!”). The brand has two spaces in NYC, and stepping into one feels like you’re entering another, punkier time. A great place to go when you want to try on a bunch of jeans and ensure that you will walk out with something. Every pair is different, and they also do free repairs!
Levi’s Twisted Seam Engineered Jeans: One of my favorite subtle dressers, Izabela Clarke, wore them to my house, and I was absolutely buzzing (a buzz partially influenced by our decision to work through the army of miniature champagne bottles in my fridge that I’d accumulated as party favors). Either way, I own two pairs, both in a size 30 x 34. Liana wrote about them here.
