Derailing of the Metro

Being a card-carrying metrosexual isn't always designer jeans and argyle v-necks fun.

Sometimes, in the attempt to step out onto that ledge of fashion, one steps just a half a square-toed Sketcher too far and falls. Falls hard and fast. What do you think could cause such a fall from department store grace? Black jeans...

Yes, I dared to go where few fashionistas have gone before, (unless of course you count yourself an 80's rocker or groupie) and slid on my form-fitting, slightly flared bottomed, Banana Republic, purchased on a crazy sale (imagine that) black jeans.

So do you think I just settled for a quick sashay around the block or a visit to a the lightly populated or visited local Quickie-Mart? Oh no! I go straight to the mall. And if visiting the mecca of fashion for Utah County wasn't enough, I visit the can't-leave-without-spending-$100-or-seeing-everyone-you-know hotspot of the state. Yes, you guessed right, Costco.

So now the jeans will go back to their resting spot, high on the shelf below the checkered-wide-leg-bought-on-a-crazy-sale-at-the-Gap pants and the boot-cut-feeling-skinny-when-I-bought-them-on-the-super-markdown-sale white jeans until I forget again everything Stacey and Clinton have spent their Friday nights teaching me and pull them out thinking the Metro has made it back on the track and I'm ready to Rock-n-Roll again!