I love jeans.

I put them on as soon as I get home from work and usually on the weekend. Why do I wear jeans so often? They're comfortable, practical, and you don't mind getting them dirty. In fact, Calvin Klein even tried to sell us pre-dirtied jeans a few seasons back. And while that might be one of the most ridiculous trends of the past twelve years, it almost makes sense. Let's face it, denim is tough and versatile as it gets when it comes to fabrics. It looks good when it gets beaten up, doesn't get ruined in the rain, keeps you warm in the winter, and matches everything. Jeans will take you from hiking in the mountains to cruising art galleries in SoHo to dinner at a trendy eatery like SushiSamba, provided you've got the right accessories and shoes. In fact, I've found that one can be incredibly chic with the right combination of jeans, good shoes, and the right top.

Lately, though, I've started thinking that the fashion powers of the world are trying to irrevocably leave their imprint on the one item that has proven least resistant to the whims of the trendy -- classic blue jeans. I came to this conclusion last year when I attempted to buy some new jeans. While this may not seem too great a challenge for many women, finding pants that fit can be a chore if you happen to live in the long-legged end of the female size spectrum. I'm 5'10" and a size 8. Ironically, the imagery in many fashion ads and runway shows tends to idealize the tall, slender silhouette, but in reality, women's pants are rarely long enough to accommodate those physiques, and capri and ankle-length pants only make tall women look like the Mississippi has broken free again and we're preparing for the deluge. Jeans, however, have always been my my safety net, since many manufacturers offer jeans in longer inseam lengths than regular pants. Unfortunately, to my dismay, these same manufacturers came up with an insidious plan to revamp their jeans styles.

Call me crazy, but when someone calls something "classic", I expect it to remain the same year after year. Evidently, the folks at Eddie Bauer disagree. They redesigned their classic cut to fit in with the current trend of low-rise pants instead of the traditional "on-the-natural-waist" fit they've had for years. Besides my height, I also have a high waist, so I find it hard to find something that fits these days. I can't wait for the low-rise thing to pass, not only because of my own preferences, but because many women who opt to flaunt the low-rise look are under the false impression that showing more is better. Hence, the warm weather of the past couple of summers has given way to an onslaught of fashion victims with more spare tires than Firestone.

Mulling over my options at Eddie Bauer, I decide to try another style, to no avail. I'm starting to get annoyed. What's wrong with this company? How can a conservative clothing store get rid of its classic cut and opt for a less traditional fit? Who would think that the 70's retro style inundating every segment of fashion would ever find its way into Eddie Bauer? My synapses raging with frustration, I decide to take my shopping dollars to The Gap instead.

For years I've worn "reverse fit" jeans from The Gap. Lately though, I've found them to be a little too baggy, so I would have to try yet another of the Gap's nine styles of women's jeans. Once in the store, I start grabbing everything as long as it comes in an 8 tall and head for the dressing rooms.

Flares and boot-cuts and wide-legs and stretch boot-cuts and low-rise stretch flares and crease-front boot-cuts and patch-pocket flares and stretch boot-cut capris and motocross flare jeans with side zippers...

Suddenly, I'm thrust into a world of 15-year olds, blindly pledging their allegiance to the latest fad and clamoring over the latest artistic achievement from N*Sync. Where are the regular straight leg jeans?! Eventually, all I'm left with is their version of "classic" cut jeans, which aren't quite as classic as they should be. This pair definitely fits the best, but they still seem to hover around my hips despite the claim that they "sit high on the waist". Choking back the alkaline taste of desperation, I settle on them and head for the cash register.

A few months later while on vacation in San Francisco, I think I've finally found the answer to my problem: the Levi's flagship store. A store that offers custom-made Levi's! Even though I've never really found Levi's to fit me very well (too small in the rise) I thought that all would be fixed with the computers, lasers, and other high-tech equipment in this ultra-hip, multi-floor monument to the originators of denim. My head was spinning looking over all of the choices of fabrics and colors from which I could choose. I felt like I was drunk.

An hour and a half later, after donning a specially-designed Levi's bodysuit so that the lasers could read my contours more efficiently, and four or five attempts to map my body shape in an enclosed steel room straight out of The Matrix, reality had a cruel, cold laugh at my expense when the beleaguered salesman and I determined that Levi Strauss is not a friend of high-waisted women. He finally, sheepishly admitted that scores of other women had the same problem. This was partially the result of Levi's redesigning their custom offerings to include men's jeans and eliminating measuring the rise in addition to the waist and inseam.

On the way out of the store my boyfriend slid up to a sales rack, picked out a pair of men's black jeans, tossed them onto the counter, and plunked down his cash. Total purchase and transaction time: 90 seconds.

"Don't you need to try those on?"
"Nah, they're my size."
"Bastard."

A few months later I finally spotted the winning jeans in, of all places, the Lands' End catalog, that final bastion of conservatism. And yes, I know what you're thinking. I, too, thought that their jeans line would be heavy on pleats and elastic waistbands. So imagine my surprise when I found out that they too had updated their image and offered several styles of jeans including a true "classic" cut jean. Even more amazing was that their jeans come in a few standard inseam lengths, including my 32" inseam. You could even custom order an inseam length, all for the low, low price of $29.50. I envisioned myself online at 3AM, fueled by green tea, ordering several pairs. I smiled. Then I bought.

So, my saga had come to a happy ending -- and I managed to pick up some good ideas amid the suffering. Marshall's, or a similar type of off-price retailer, is a good place to test out how different brands will fit since they tend to stock many brands at once. Lee jeans happen to fit pretty well too. They come in long and sit on your natural waist, although I see that they've recently added low-rise, boot-cut, and the like to their lineup. Finally, if you can't bear to part with your favorite jeans but they look like you slid down Mount McKinley on your ass in them, Bluejeans Forever in Seattle can restore them for you.

Oh, and a final note to Levi, Calvin, Georges, et. al.: add new styles if you must. Follow the whims of fashion. Let your imagination run riot with millions of varieties of shapes. But leave my classic jeans alone!

This is Laura Francoeur's first piece for our magazine. Avid hiker and backpacker, birder, Francophile, and a killer chef, she can also wield a Benelli shotgun with frightening mastery. She is not a woman to be trifled with at any costs.