I have a habit/hobby/obsession of rejecting fashion. If more than 50% of the population does it - there’s gotta be something wrong, right? The evils of society - sneakers, popular music, short hair, MySpace layouts, Windows, World of Warcraft, and of course to top it off with the ultimate manifestation of solidarity: Jeans.

Jeans are sickly widespread. By that I mean 80% of the population around you is probably wearing Jeans right now (unless you’re at the office most likely, but possibly even then.) Seriously, next time you’re sitting somewhere, just do a little count of how many people around you are not wearing Jeans. You’d be amazed.

And so, for possibly even two years (I can’t remember), I wore no jeans at all whatsoever. None. Interesting part is, nobody actually noticed until I told them. “So you don’t have any Jeans?” - “Nope.”

There is, however, a certain level of conformism I sort of owe to society. I could go about rejecting standards when they’re more common and such, but otherwise, no go. And I, being male, faced a certain problem when it came to Jeans alternatives.

There simply are almost no Jeans alternatives for men. Sure, you have corduroy, and that stuff they have all over the place, suit pants, surfer pants (you won’t see me wearing those), ordinary old-man pants and of course kilts. Kilts aren’t very widespread in northern Europe, so I figured I’m not going to wear any. Suit pants and ordinary old-man pants aren’t really my taste, and surfer pants are fucking disgusting. In other words, I’m kind of left with corduroy and that generic undefinable stuff they use.

I could cross over and start wearing skirts, of course, but as I said, there is a certain level of conformity I owe to society. So as much as I do want to wear skirts and make-up (honestly), I simply can’t. Not a good idea in job interviews, school environments and around your parents

Fine! You got me! I surrender, society! You know what, you got me. You win, majority. I’m willing to buy Jeans, and wear them with pride.

And so, on the 3rd of June I went to the nearest mall to get myself some Jeans, under three restrictions. They must not be blue-blue, faded blue is good enough, really dark blue, fine. Additionally, the waistline must be sane and shouldn’t cause any problems for a person actually walking in them. Then lastly, they must not cost over 300 Danish Kroner (~ US$53).

I, wearing black pants and a buttoned shirt, together with a fellow community member, Simon, who was wearing surfer pants and a glaring pink hoodie that could frighten small children made our way through the dungeon of stores at Field’s on an open Sunday.

It became very obvious how much of a misfit I actually was. Although I had three whole years to adjust to life in the urban jungle, Simon was way ahead of me in terms of cultural understanding and social behavior. Switching off the analytical mind of his in exchange for the more socially acceptable mask of politeness. The funny part is, he had only moved to the city two weeks earlier. Some people just have it in them.

At H&M, the IKEA of clothes, I couldn’t find anything even remotely reassembling what I was looking for. The Mini-Magasin store did in fact have an interesting pair, but for 900 Kroner (~ US$161), they were doomed to stay where they were for a very long time if it depended on me. Eventually, I lost track of where we were heading, and we had reached a section neither of us knew. In fact, I doubt it was even mapped. And to think Field’s looks like a simple place from the outside. Like two explorers, finding natives far away where no white man had gone before, we found ourselves surrounded by locals carrying bags embedded with various logos. “It’s hard to find clothes when your style is based on irony.” He said, but it’s even harder to find clothes when you have no idea where you are or where you might be heading.

“Where are we?” Neither of us knew. Eventually, a lucky turn in the path revealed the familiar sight of the stairs and Jack & Jones. At last, mapped territory.

I remember looking for non-Jeans pants in Jack & Jones that one time. Of course, to no avail. They simply did not have that item. It was like walking into a Chinese restaurant seeking to buy condoms. It is just not going to work out. And so, looking through the stacks of Jeans, I found myself a faded gray pair. The waistline made sense, and the size was good enough. For 200 Kroner (~ US$35), I could afford them. I put them on, looked okay, good enough.

So there you have it, society. I’m wearing Jeans. But, hey, at least I haven’t cut my hair yet, and yes, I still want to wear make-up. Maybe I’ll make a statement of going to prom wearing a dress. Although in order to do that and be excused, it might be better to at least act dangerously drunk, high, or temporarily insane.