I’m not experimental with jeans. I have a mark that I wear, and it’s Raey. And I have three Raey styles that I love. None of them are torn. Because who in their right mind, over 40 – actually, rub that – who in their right mind would wear ripped jeans?
Well, no one, of course. But everything gets very confusing. Such is the, ahem, paradigm shift (paradenim?) that the other week, a phenomenon best left to the cast members of geordie coast debuted on none other than the front row of couture in Paris. The jeans were dark and skinny and of undetermined origin. The knees they revealed to the world, on the other hand,