Jen and I are not what you might call clothes horses. I think our daughter probably has more clothes than the both of us combined when you remove things like socks and underwear; the only thing that helps us stomach that fact is that we’ve only actually bought about 5% of her wardrobe—the rest have been hand-me-downs or gifts. My own clothes have a median age of about 7 years or so; I’ve got some pants that date back to high school (Vietnam-era jungle fatigues that are as rare as hen’s teeth), a few shirts of the same vintage, and boots from freshman year in college. I tend to wear clothes until they fall off my back or Jen tells me to get rid of them, which makes my daily ensemble a pretty ratty look.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve finally started listening to Jen when it comes to proper sizing, eschewing big baggy clothes for things that actually fit my frame, so the older stuff I’ve got is slowly getting winnowed out as I replace it. This means things like pants that need seven belt loops are getting donated to charity and XL-sized coats have been gifted to my father. I still have some baggy stuff but I wear it only rarely, and it sits in a big tupperware bin waiting for the veterans collection people to haul it off into the sunset.

On the hunt for a proper pair of jeans two years ago, I tried several different brands. My old go-to, a standard pair of Levi’s 501’s, failed to fit me as they had in the past. And I tried. About 15 pairs, to be exact. Every single one fit differently, and every single one looked funny in an I’m-not-spending-$40-on-these sort of way. Some were the male version of Mom Jeans, which is not a look I’m dying to emulate, some looked like I was dragging two bedsheets below my knees, and some hung down around my butt like rolls of elephant skin.

I finally found a winner with the Gap, who sells a flavor called Straight Fit (low on the hips, straight legs, small inseam) which fit me less like Poindexter and more like a fashion model: that is to say, the waist doesn’t come up to my armpits, the pockets aren’t the size of trashcan lids, the fabric is relatively durable and the inseam doesn’t reveal 3/4 of my pasty shins when I sit in a chair. Swell. Sign me up for four pairs.

Well, it didn’t work like that. I could only find one pair the night I tried them on, and that was on a back shelf under some other jeans. So I left with what I could find. Fast forward to this afternoon: They still make this style (thank God) but it’s impossible to find anywhere near the neatly folded wall of denim—they have it sprinkled throughout the store in groups of ten, casually hung or draped or hidden in odd places so that I had to go and ask one of the sales drones. They’ve also jacked the price up from ~$40 to ~$65, negating most of the benefit of a 40% off sale. I wandered around for a little while, doing the math on my iPhone and trying to rationalize the purchase, then finally plunked my card down.

Now, I need to find a winter coat that actually fits.