Torn jeans used to be cool, in my book. A strategic snip here and a designer cut there, just to show everyone how much of a shit you didn’t give. Oh yes, those were the days.
Nowadays, I don’t particularly want torn jeans – but I have very little choice in the matter. Crawling around after two young kids, picking up their mess or just begging the dark night for mercy – it takes its toll. And nowhere is this more keenly felt than in the knees of your jeans.
It’s a dad’s badge of honour. And, actually, maybe that is cool after all.