For my last column (Pique, Dec. 17), I appeared in a photo wearing a “Trump Skis in Jeans” T-shirt. It’s a joke, of course, but one not immediately obvious to the many who messaged me to say that since skiing in jeans was, in fact, cool, what could this mean? So, let me make one thing clear: skiing in jeans rules. At least as an authentic act—not the ploy of a pretender, imposter, mountebank, wannabe or someone so phony they could never represent. Allow me to explain.
Imagine an Orwellian outdoors industry where doublespeak rules. Where cookie-cutter experiences are labelled “adventure”; where natural fabrics like wool are marketed as “high tech”; and where “packed powder” is a euphemism for machine-made glop. If you’re chuckling, you recognize we already live in this world. One where the phrase “alternate facts” is believed by millions of conservatives to describe something real—though by definition it cannot exist. Only in such a world could the bold, life-affirming act of skiing in jeans be portrayed by the whims of hater populism as the rock-bottom of mountain style.
Why has the contrablishment adopted this view? Perhaps it picked up on the crucible of Colorado snobbery directed at Texan visitors to its mountain resorts. Folks who only ski three days a year clinging to their utilitarian Wranglers hardly seems reason for derision; in fact, it’s actually a paean to both DIY ingenuity and sustainability—repurposing the “adequate” in lieu of better-suited garments that will barely be used but whose manufacture contributes to climate change and water pollution.
And yet, the ranks of ridicule rose. The “Cheney Skis in Jeans” stickers of 2004, a “Romney Skis in Jeans” sign outside a 2012 presidential debate, and 2016’s “Trump Skis in Jeans” lawn signs all sought to make similar points: these people are odious, uncool charlatans possessed of not a shred of savvy or integrity, and ergo, manifestly unfit to lead. But it seems grossly misguided to appropriate jeans—the quintessential American garment invented in 1873 by Levi Strauss and Jacob Davis—as a symbol of moral failing.
The jeans/Jerry connection, however, transcends politics. As reported by Britain’s Daily Mail: “While most ski fans shun pricey designer clothing, donning a onesie or a pair of jeans to hit the slopes is severely frowned upon.” The paper cites a poll that ranked the Top 5 Ski Fashion Faux Pas: Jeans (31 per cent); Onesie (16 per cent); Tracksuit (15 per cent); Bum bags (seven per cent); Lycra (six per cent). Clearly respondents had never skied in Eastern Europe—or Alberta.
I skied in jeans as a kid because that’s what you did everything in. Tobogganing, hockey, skiing—there was never a thought to wearing something better, only adapting. Much as we became good at skiing the East’s manmade ice, we also got good at skiing in jeans. You just needed the right layering. Early on, it was pyjamas that dangled from your cuffs, later, long underwear tucked into socks; and, because you couldn’t pull jeans over the top of a ski boot, gaiters to keep the boot-pant interface snow-free. I don’t recall being wet and cold, perhaps because when the denim absorbed the right amount of moisture and froze up, it became an impervious layer through which more snow couldn’t melt—the world’s first Gore Tex.
As teenagers, the pros of jeans overshadowed any cons: you didn’t have to change before or after skiing, meaning you were ready for après, a night out, or going to work. That your pants might be soggy mattered not—they would dry. It was Zen minimalism.
In the late ’70s, I ski-bummed out West for a year without proper ski pants; not a single person snickered behind me in a lift-line. Today, with egos more fragile, people are wishing they could ski in jeans. Proof? Over the years, several outerwear companies have made ski pants of treated denim. The best came from Sweden, and there are no greater arbiters of fashion than the Swedes. If you prefer old school, still-available flannel-lined jeans work wonders.
Suppressed fashion isn’t the only reason we know skiing in jeans is cool. Colorado’s Grist Brewery produces “Skiing in Jeans Bock,” a bad-ass lager whose graphics depict a bad-ass activity. And there’s even a skiing-in-jeans film tribute (https://bit.ly/2Hp4ABq). But the real bellwether lies with those who’ve turned the insult on its head. Which brings us to the “Trump Skis in Jeans” meme (represent.com/trumpskisinjeans), which started like this: “We are skiers and riders in Summit County, Colorado, who want to help fund marginalized people our current president is defunding and mistreating.” Lighthearted passive resistance to share with friends while standing up for something, with 100 per cent of profits from the sale of T-shirts, etc. going to Planned Parenthood and Protect our Winters. Of course, I bought one.
Here’s the hammer: the greatest ski magazine cover ever, the Powder 40th Anniversary issue, depicts a freewheeling dude in a headband skiing in jeans and an open denim jacket, the look on his face, devoid of even an iota of irony, confirming that he’s the coolest skier of all time.
Far from a semiotic saying “I am weak,” skiing in jeans loudly states: “I don’t give a shit.” And in an age of doublespeak, not giving a shit might really mean you care more deeply about an experience than its accoutrements.
Leslie Anthony is a Whistler-based author, editor, biologist and bon vivant who has never met a mountain he didn't like.
