During the Gold Rush, most would-be miners lost money, but people who sold them picks, shovels, tents and blue-jeans (Levi Strauss) made a nice profit.
I'm very different to my mum. I'm not as beautiful as she is, nor - she probably despairs about this - as groomed. I certainly rebelled against her idea of looking well turned-out. I spent several years with a shaved head in jeans and baggy shirts.
I grew up in a very bohemian environment in southern Sweden, so I was always, always, always in black jeans.
I really like to be by myself and if I do go out to look around, I dress in jeans. My secretary is constantly telling me to dress up, shave and look your best because people know you. That bothers me. I just want to be natural.
Cold?" Ravus echoed. He took her arm and rubbed it between his hands, watching them as though they were betraying him. "Better?" He asked warily. His skin felt hot, even through the cloth of her shirt, his touch was both soothing and electric. She leaned into him without thinking. His thighs parted, rough black cloth scratching against her jeans as she moved between his long legs. His eyes half-lidded as he pushed himself off the desk, their bodies sliding together, his hands still holding hers. Then, suddenly, he froze.
Dior jeans are one of my favorites.
I'm a T-shirt-and-jeans-with-combat-boots guy. And if I don't have to shave, I don't.
I have 17 dogs and I like to dress them, so I started designing this clothing line and it's really cute, like dresses and jeans - everything you can imagine for humans, but for dogs.
I’m a jeans size up from where I usually am, but there’s nothing about it that freaks me out. I’ve always said that sexy is having a really strong sense of yourself and never taking yourself too seriously.
I’m not going to let my insecurities keep me from having a good time. I think that if you don’t loose your self-consciousness, you can’t really be present in a situation. For example, if you’re at The Louvre, but you’re thinking about how much you hate your jeans, you’re not really at The Louvre. So in your memory, when you look back, you’re always going to be like, “I was wearing those jeans I hated”. And you’re not going to remember anything else.
I never owned a pair of blue jeans until I met my second wife.
I have always been drawn to designing fashions that are rebellious, like black leather jackets on suburban kinds, a corset dress, punk, blue jeans. I love that. Fashion changes all the time, and what is considered extreme or elegant or luxurious (or not luxurious) is changing all the time.
I had an old man moment the other day. I went into Abercrombie & Fitch to get some jeans and the music was so loud I couldn't stay.
I like bootcut jeans in a plain style with a nice line.
I like mixing things. I wear a lot of boots. Love boots. And then jeans, but I like to wear them with a really ruffly top. Or I love high-waisted anything.
The public never appears to tire of endless courses of strawberries and cream, and the theory that you run the risk of boring people with endless photo montages of the Chelsea Pensioners in their dress reds, or close-ups of a Pimm's Cup sprouting all kinda of flora, has yet to be proven. People like Wimbledon in the same way they like blue jeans or even their own spouses: for the pleasure yielded by their reliable sameness.
Every girl should have a little black dress, a great boyfriend blazer and a pair of skinny jeans in their wardrobe.
My essentials are skinny jeans, loose-fitting tees, big jumpers, and the leather jacket. Everything is black or blue - I don't own anything colorful.
On the same Australian trip, I brought back a pair [of Ugg] for my then boyfriend who was a photographer. He wore them all the time. He used to wear them with Levis twisted jeans and a vintage T-shirt. This is 2002. They looked great on him. I guess it takes a certain kind of man to pull them off but they have other ones that are less typical of this, I think.
I'm really into jeans. It's kind of more for comfort...So, like, comfort and oversized are really in for me.
My bikini, a pair of black high heels and a pair of comfortable jeans.
Vaclav Havel was a really popular leader. He couldn't believe that he was really there. I mean, he still dressed in black T-shirts and jeans and was very kind of '60s. And he began to realize the seriousness of it. And he knew how to strategize. And he had a very keen political sense, but he didn't want to be like the old communist leaders.
I strained to remember where I was or even what I was wearing, touching my green corduroy jeans and staring at the exposed-brick wall. As my paranoia deepened, I became convinced that I had died and no one was telling me.
My only ambition in life . . . is to wear size 28 jeans.
I love black leggings with cowboy (I mean cowgirl!) boots, and other-slightly less trendy-things like my boys' Wrangler jeans and my husband's worn deerskin work gloves. I love most things country, because country, to me, is home.
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