The "Jeanius"

In case you weren't aware, Gap is going green. 

From March 5-14th, Gap stores have been promoting recycling... of your old denim! The deal goes like this: bring in any old pair of jeans, any brand, and receive 30% off your purchase of a new pair. Those faded, ripped, holey duds are transformed into cotton housing insulation and donated to needy families in the community while you strut your stuff in a nice, new pair.

So tonight Janna and I grabbed our outdated and overworn scraps of denim and went to hunt down a deal. Both of us wear our clothes til they are threadbare, especially jeans, and the two pair that I alternate between have been looking especially tired lately. It was time. 

However, the scene that met us at Gap was a bit intimidating. There were at least 10 styles of jeans to choose from, all in varying shades of indigo and varying stages of distress. Why stores feel the need to mutilate their jeans before selling them is beyond me, but that's a whole different issue that we won't get into here. 

Trying not to be overwhelmed, we picked through the stacks, looking for the size and style that we hoped would best suit us, bringing armloads back to the fitting rooms. As a side note, fitting rooms are pretty close to my own personal hell. There, I said it. Moving on. 

Next comes the part where both of us put on a pair, show each other, and try to appraise them without injuring each other's self-esteem. The first few I tried were failures, but after a few changes I found a pair that I liked. They were my usual size, similar to the other pairs of jeans I own, and acceptable in the mirror. I emerged, as did Janna, and she showed me the pair that she liked. We agreed with each other's choices, but found minor issues with each pair. Mine were a little shorter than I liked, and hers were too loose in the waist.

This is where things got interesting.

As we stood in the hallway of the fitting rooms, the "Jeanius" walked up. At that point I did not realize that this Gap employee was a magician in disguise, so when he approached I didn't pay him any more attention than I normally do a fitting room attendant. His appearance (and, er, flamboyance) should have tipped me off right away, for he was sporting skinny black jeans, a white v-neck shirt, several bracelets, and very fashion-forward sneakers. He asked us if we were finding everything alright, and we nodded, but the look he gave us from over the rims of his über hip glasses made it obvious that we were not alright. 

Declaring that we needed an impromptu fitting session, he addressed Janna's issues first. After a brief interview, analysis of her current jeans, and discussion of options, he disappeared for mere seconds, returning with two pair of jeans in hand for her to try. Not only were they the right color and style, but they were several sizes smaller than the jeans she had previously tried. The amazing thing: they were perfect. They were flattering, comfortable, and fit so much better than the ones we had picked. 

Having succeeded with Janna, the "Jeanius" turned to me. I could see the gears in his head turning as he scrutinized me, not in a mean-spirited or judgmental way, but as if he was performing a complicated surgical procedure and needed the entirety of his concentration to get me out alive. Finally, he suggested the same style of jeans that Janna had tried. 

"Here, Kate. I think I have a pair in my fitting room." Janna said, rooting around in the pile. "Oh, they're not your size."

"I bet you could wear those." the "Jeanius" interjected, and I rolled my eyes.

"No way I'm getting into them." I muttered, but I obediently closed the door, preparing myself for the worst. You already know what happened next, don't you? They were PERFECT. Perfect, I tell you, and 3 sizes smaller than I'd been wearing before. Trust me, I checked the tag several times, just to make sure it wasn't a mistake.

"It's a miracle!" I cried, twirling to show Janna. 

"I know! Me too!" she replied, flaunting her own amazing new jeans. "I swear, I have no idea where he got these. They are definitely not on the shelf."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he created them out of thin air. Like a Genie!" I marveled.

"Yeah! A Jean-ie!" she said, and we both cracked up. But seriously. He could've been. 

We were still in a state of shock when the "Jeanius" was ringing up our purchases, but he just smiled, telling us how many customers end up with ill-fitting pants because they think they know their size. 

I'm pretty sure it was his nice way of saying "I told you so."

In other, very uninteresting news, I have been studying my life away. That is all. 

Told you it was uninteresting.