Quotes About Jeans

Habituation is indeed a fact of human psychology. That's one reason we like novelty, including different cuts of jeans.

You still cry too easily, but without your tears, at least, everything would burn. You are Spring in your jeans, in the laughing leaves. I think pearls melted over your bones.

His tightly fitting jeans were unmistakably French.

Being from Texas, I would say I favor a pair of jeans you can wear some boots with.

My collection has a whole new cut; they are based on the style of jeans my mum wore in Texas in the '70s.

I like the way corduroys feel. I like the sort of jean aspect of corduroys, but also the texture of them. They probably remind me of my childhood, too, I think. I wore cords, and my dad had a corduroy jacket.

Think she'll stay on awhile?" Preacher quietly asked Jack. Jack was frowning. "I think what she does to a pair of jeans ought to be against the law." He looked at Preacher. "You okay here? I'm thinking of having a beer in Clear River." It was code. There was a woman in Clear River. "I'm okay here," Preacher said. *

While he sat on the edge of the bed to retrieve his jeans from the floor, she saw the tattoo on his back for the first time—a large sunburst right between his shoulder blades. Very sexy on that broad, brown back. She'd seen the other one earlier, an armband in the shape of a chain.

It was their mothers, long ago. Tibby noted with joy that all four of them were wearing jeans.

Tibby, you are crazy, Carmen said. Those pants are in love with you. They want you for your body and your mind. She couldn't help seeing the pants in a completely new way.

Once upon a time there was a pair of pants.

Katy skipped over, her low-rise jeans threatening to fall off her skinny hips. With some girls, that was a sexy look. With Katy, it made you nervous.

I hope that I never have to work in a place that sells large quantities of jeans ever again. Jeans are rough! It used to kill my hands. I know that sounds prissy - I'm not prissy at all. But it did; it killed my hands. It was awful.

I gotta have my long trench coats, a nice scarf for the winter time when you're walking around, and some nice fitted jeans to go with the trench coats.

I go through different phases and change my mind about my style all the time. In the winter, I wanted to wear jeans and pumps and black and leather all the time. Right now, I want to wear long skirts and belts, with my hair in a ponytail. It changes all the time!

I have a really basic uniform: in winter, black tights and any old dress that I can throw on. In summer, high-waisted jeans and this shirt, or that shirt, and a cashmere cardigan just in case.

My mum was very conscious about fashion, and my dad was born into the tailoring tradition, so fashion has always been my life, although now, really, I wear the same thing - just in different weights - light and heavy cashmere in winter and cotton in summer. And jeans.

I'm like every other woman: a closet full of clothes, but nothing to wear: So I wear jeans.

I put on the Hank Williams and the Patsy Cline and the Rosemary Clooney on vinyl - I'm not trying to be some cool indie-rock person, I just love the way it sounds - and throw on a T-shirt and jeans. In Texas, we practically come out of the womb in jeans.

Many women are pear-shaped and tend to wear jeans that are too loose. They need to focus on what jeans will re-proportion their body.

I'm so glad that the peg-leg jeans thing is over. I'm over that, and I don't know why people think that the boyfriend jean looks good on everyone. Maybe if you're really tall and thin you can pull it off, or pull it off better than most. But being only five-foot-one and being more of a curvy girl, boyfriend jeans aren't the most flattering.

Regarding my attire, I choose whatever I feel is most flattering at the time. That can be jeans dressed up to a nice dinner or a dress at home for a casual night. In other words, thin days and chubby days are what determines what I wear.

My mother once made a quilt from dozens of pairs of second- and third- and fourth- hand blue jeans that she bought us at Goodwill, the Salvation Army, Value Village, and garage sales. My late sister studied my mother's denim quilt and said, 'That's a lot of pants. There's been a lot of ass in those pants. This is a blanket of asses.

Nick was dressed in jeans, a dark green sweater, and bomber jacket–the perfect image of a rich college student. Talon looked like a biker who had just left Sanctuary, New Orleans's premier biker bar. Acheron looked like a refugee from the Dungeon–the local underground goth hangout. Valerius was the professional contingent, and Zarek…Zarek just looked like he was ready to kill something.' (Talon)