Q: Dear Greek God of Style, Why do you talk about raw denim so much? Why is raw denim any better than my Brett Favre autographed, $30 Wranglers? Bryce from Boston
A: Dear Selvage Simpleton, As part of your training I will offer some advice in regards to raw denim. Typically I would chastise you for wasting my time with sophomoric questions, but I am feeling nostalgic today. Therefore, I'll offer my own transformational experience with you.
Imagine the sunrise, in Soho in New York City. The gritty streets beneath your feet, pounding out a day of purposeful searching for the choice offerings of the city. Entering into the French boutique I have to admit, even for me, there was a bit of apprehension. I know this is a difficult to comprehend, but let's continue.
"Monsieur, you must select a size smaller than your usual," she pressed, assessing my physique. That's Lesson #1. "Allez, you must try them on," offering assistance towards the dressing area. And Lesson #2.
In ignorant disbelief I proceeded to disrobe behind a partially closed curtain. Entering the denim was a process akin to rolling out precious pastry dough over a savory filling. I must be honest, they were tight in all places. And I must also admit some numbness. The moment I realized my situation, immediately the curtain was retracted and the French attendant was probing all fitments of the denim. All fitments, I repeat.
"Parfait (French for perfect) . . ." touch, touch, "Parfait, Monsieur"
Need I say more?