Dear Mossimo. I love your clothes. They bring the whole respectable work-casual-with-a-younger-twist to an affordable Target bracket. But I must ask: I am a 5'101/2, 138 lb woman who has imprudently been dubbed "a big girl" by intimidated dance partners whose statures echo their tact in magnitude... in what planet does that equal to freshly laundered size six pair of jeans crudely melting off of me like cheap cologne in a crowded elevator? I almost wore a belt today - it was that drastic. If this malfeasance continues, I may only wear these jeans with a Bella Band. The belt just contributed to the mess by making an odd melange of puckerings, while letting the jeans hang off my ass like a drunken ex-boyfriend at two a.m. on Valentine's Day (yes, I couldn't decide between the cheap cologne and drunk boyfriend simile, so I over-constructed the paragraph to use both! Got to indulge oneself from time to time).

 I was going to make a crack about how these are sort of my"drunk ex-boyfriend jeans" based on my last comment, but I feel that I might miss the mark on what I imagine these jeans would have to be. You may have heard of Boyfriend Jeans. No, this does not refer to the single girl's complex that may require her put as much time and energy into her jeans as she might into a relationship, so much as a style the antithesizes the skinny jeans movement, by putting women in the baggiest, holiest, droopiest jeans possible and pretending she "borrowed" them from her "boyfriend" - to create your own pair of boyfriend jeans, lose about fifteen pounds and every pair you own will magically adhere to this fad, although be warned that it is soooooo 2009)...These of course are worn with spiky heels while skinny jeans are tucked into the appropriate named "UGGS"... again for contrast!

Ok, I take back what I said about boyfriend jeans not
being for women who have relationships
with their clothes...

 I would like to think I was clever to think up "ex-boyfriend jeans" but a quick google search disabuses me of that notion. Apparently the conceit with ex-boyfriend jeans is similar to boyfriend jeans except with more destruction. So your boyfriend was a slob of course, but then when you caught him diddling the pool boy, you got angry and took his smelly, skanky jeans and shredded them some more. Then you kept them and wore them as some kind of trophy of your vestigial destruction. For some reason, they're also cropped into capris. I guess that's like the female version of emasculating a man through his jeans? I'm not sure. Anyways, since my thought of "drunk ex-boyfriend jeans" were just kind of the jeans I'm wearing now hanging gracelessly over my otherwise stunningly formed lower half, I don't think this lives up to the evolving trend of adding modifiers to increasingly tattered and ugly jeans. I suspect the trajectory would instead require the pants be actually soaked in Everclear and lit on fire before donning them and I don't have good enough health insurance to pull that off. And yes, I leave it to your discretion to decide between the equally "funny" jokes of commenting on how that would give me a hot ass (har har har) or whether I would then be a liar liar pants on fire (har har har)...

At any rate, in light of my apparent ability to actually have a classy wardrobe or the requisite time needed to implement style, I have officially decided that my time to dress unprofessionally is winding to a close, so while I cannot return to the full fabulousity of my undergrad days, due largely to my need to have walkable shoes for the hour long trek to school, I am at least re-rembracing my  remaining costume jewelry and glitter in lieu of - say - actual makeup or hairstyling. I am the fairy-princess law student, thank you very much. If my pants don't fit and I must compensate for this by wearing one of three shirts baggy enough to cover up my absence of a tramp stamp, I can at least be the law school fairy princess. So there, world. I tried being a grown up. It was a good run. Bring on the rhinestones.

Think happy thoughts and you
can SUE!

I'm not quite ready to have a relationship with my jeans, but I suppose I could have an affair with some chandelier earrings and possibly make some time for a menage a trois with a scarf and some novelty tights.