Poetry & Blue Jeans
I want to know how many of us who buy blue jeans have also bought poetry. I mean, if you buy blue jeans, I want to know how much money you have spent on both blue jeans and poetry.
This past year was not a particularly good year for me in terms of blue jeans. Although I would have liked to have had more blue jeans, I only bought one new pair from a discount store, and although they fit well, I did not particularly like the fitting but had to live with them anyway as my tolerance for trying on clothes and returning them is low. My other pair had slowly worn away in the butt area, as so many of my jeans do, my butt ultimately being too much butt for the cut of the jeans. Right below each butt cheek, a slow wearing away that will eventually thin enough to reveal skin.
In terms of poetry, however, this year was a particularly good year. I am a tenure-track professor of literature and creative writing. This means that I can buy many books related to research or teaching and have my purchases reimbursed by my department. It also means that I can assign poetry books that I would like to read in my classes and request free instructor’s copies, and I do. In terms of poetry, I have spent much money this year.
I’m wondering about blue jeans and poetry and money because Levi’s, the company that in the 90s had famously, through a particular commercial, let us know that a pair of their blue jeans was worth as much as if not more than an automobile in Prague, is telling me to Go Forth; however, they aren’t really telling me to Go Forth (a phrase that I’m sure is probably copyrighted by now and owned by the Levi’s corporation in that sad and terrible way that we allow corporations to own language and control speech). They are telling that part of me that would like to be young and beautiful and unencumbered and adventurous and lanky and sexually uninhibited to Go Forth. And they are using Walt Whitman to do it.
Whitman, an American poet who wrote to the poor, the encumbered, the old and the not so beautiful.
Levi’s would like for us to believe that their blue jeans are quintessentially American. One of the two commercials in their recent ad campaign is in black and white. The soundtrack incorporates the wax recording of Whitman reading “America” and shows a lit billboard with the word “America” slightly submerged in dark water. The images, of children and young adults of mixed socio-economic backgrounds, are intended to make us feel united through our differences in wealth and resources and employment. Essentially, however, everyone is quite young and fit and seems carefree.
Levi’s would like for us to think of their jeans, especially during these “war” times, as American, but I know differently. I know for certain that in 1990, they took their factory and they themselves went forth. They and their American jobs went forth to Costa Rica. I know this for certain because, growing up in San Antonio, many of my Mexican-American classmates in grade school had mothers who sewed those blue jeans in the Levi’s factory that could be traded for automobiles overseas. When Levi’s went forth into the third-world and the cheap labor that such a venturing entails, they left American families, particularly Latino families, with no way to further their own livelihoods. My neighborhood became less and less lively as a result of Levi’s going forth.
The other commercial for Levi’s Go Forth ad campaign also uses Whitman. His “Pioneers” plays out on a soundtrack that also features panic-inducing noises such as thunder and gunshots and fireworks and shows young and beautiful Americans who seem to be fleeing from danger or else on their way to someplace important. There is an air of the perilous. There are scenes suggesting that either animal slaughter or sex has just taken place or else the “youthful sinewy races” are unabashedly accustomed to changing into and out of their blue jeans in front of others. There are young men necking young men, or else there is much androgynous necking. As viewers, we catch the young and carefree in the middle of their seemingly rebellious, naughty, and private acts and are led to believe by their stern and strict faces that these acts are seriously and gravely important. The place where the young and beautiful are going forth, at commercial’s end, is revealed as some outdoor, nighttime, bonfire gathering of serious looks and more fleeing accomplished with water drops on one’s body.
I, too, feel as if I have somewhere important to go and that perhaps I should embark on this perilous journey, but I do not believe that Levi’s or its commodification of Whitman has anything to do with my getting there.
It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but I recently bought a great pair of black jeans at Penelope’s for $160. As a reviewer, I get most contemporary poetry books free.
Also, given the state of my & everyone else’s MLA job search this year, I am not sure you will endear yourself by mentioning your tenure-track position. But otherwise, welcome, Jenny!
Thanks for the welcome and comment, Michael. I wonder what a pair of $160 jeans must feel like! I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve tried on about a dozen pair of jeans in the past few days with no success–perhaps I should try more expensive jeans? I totally understand the dismal state of the job search this year. I had some awful years of applying with no bites and some years of terrible MLA experiences. Are you on the job search this year?
It’s actually worth it to spend more on jeans—I had a pair of $100 Seven jeans I bought in 2007 that only fell apart this fall. Never had Levi’s last that long, to say nothing of the wretched Lee product: last time I bought a pair of Lee jeans, the pockets started coming off the back after two weeks; I sent them back, they replaced them; two weeks later, same thing.
Do you know Penelope’s? It’s up near yr neck of the woods—pricey, trendy, but close to my preening heart.
And yes, job search, no interviews, although three of my schools advertised late & are conducting interviews post-MLA. Fingers crossed. But this was an early foray; I can most likely get a dissertation-year fellowship for next year. It’s next year’s market that really matters.
Coffee in the new semester, for sure.
Hi I love jeans.
I especially love to wear blue jeans that also have a poem inscribed inside. Especially when I am sitting somewhere (ya know) like on the john, I can take out the label with the beautiful poem written on it and enjoy. It is Moving!!!
This has been a bad year for jean purchases, blue or otherwise. In fact, I can’t recall the last time I bought jeans. I have spent around $200 US on poetry books though.
As far as trousers go, I have been converted to thrift-store shopping. Just last week I brough this weird pair of ‘50ish pants that has buttons where most pants have zippers and zippers where most pants have belt loops.
I think Whitman would have approved.
Cy, I think I should hit the thrift stores. I’m having no luck with the retail stores. It’s terrible to go shopping for myself: everything is made for women so much taller than me.
Jenny,
Great to see you posting at DE! Good luck with the jean search.
You probably know Whitman isn’t the first major poet who’s been used to sell fashionable wear to youth. One of his main “camerados to come,” Allen Ginsberg, once made himself available for a GAP ad campaign. Bob Dylan did an ad for Coke [or was that Pepsi?], more recently, too (assuming one considers him a “major poet”). Charles Bernstein did one for the Yellow Pages at Super Bowl halftime. I’m sure there are other blatant crossings of poetry and Madison Avenue that I’m not thinking of now. No doubt Don Share can come up with a few older cases. Maybe John Ashbery could be considered another example, inasmuch as MTV is basically a never-ending commercial.
Some would say nothing wrong with that, of course.
Actually, here’s a hypothetical question to anyone who cares to answer: If Levi’s approached you with a handsome offer to read your poetry for one of their ads, what would you do? Why Yes, or Why No?
Thank you for the comment, Kent. And hi! Thank you for the list of poets/outlaws who crossed over into commercials. That’s fascinating. I had no idea. The strangest one on the list is probably Charles Bernstein. To answer your question: I would totally sell out! And the first thing I’d buy is a good pair of jeans.
You should try stealing really expensive jeans, I’m told that it is very satisfying on various levels. I get my poetry however I can.
I don’t know, Jose. Jail time is kind of scary for me right now. Unless you’re encouraging me to steal from you? I could totally do that.
Dude, how totally rebellious of you. That’ll show the corporate establishment! And too bad if you fuck over some small bookstores while you’re at it.
After shrinking my fiancée’s Argentine jeans in the laundry (rookie mistake, I know) I accompanied her to Nordstrom Rack over the weekend and we found a pair good enough to displace most of my sins. She too is not tall. They were more expensive than any poetry book I bought this year, but they are jeans; they will earn their keep. The last pair I bought for myself I got at a thrift store around the corner for $13–I wear them just about every day.
Thanks for the tip, Robert. I’ll have to check out the Nordstrom Rack if I ever come across one.
I cant remember the last time i bought a new pair of jeans or a book. If i were to guess, i would say in 2008 for the jeans and in 2007 for the book; thats bad, i know. The only thing i keep doing, is paying those bills. By the time i am done, i just have enough dollars to eat.
Next year will be different. I am planning on writting a book; in other words, that will force me to go search those shelves for good books. So Jenny, keep up the good work, loved your post, and i will be calling you.
Thanks for the comment, Henry. I’m sure you’ll write a great book. I remember that you had so many interesting stories to tell. I’d definitely buy it, and I’m here to help you if you need it, of course.
Of course, for books we have libraries (there are no libraries for jeans that I know of [maybe there should be?]). But then; should I feel guilty when I take out library books, in that I am denying the poet the royalties from a purchase? Kent, I’ve had “Homage For The Last Avant-Garde” out for ages now. Are you angry with me?
No Cy, not at all.
But if you’re really feeling guilty, and would like to calm your conscience, feel free to place a belated Christmas order with the publisher: Fifteen or twenty copies for the Mathews clan and your friends would be jolly great!
By the way, since you mention the book, is the title of your great new magazine a play on the title of my collection? You can’t blame me for hoping!
Much as I would like accept the compliment, I think you have me confused with someone else. The only publication I’m involved with is the online journal Deep South, which has been around for donkey’s years.
Apologies for mis-remembering the “to” in your title for a “for.” By the way, I love the line, “the mountain is a gin-clear river.” Tonight, Christmas Eve, I will drink gin and ponder that line.
Sounds like you’ve already been drinking if you think it’s Christmas Eve!
Cy, apologies for the confusion there. I’ve been aware of Deep South for years, and it’s a tremendous journal. The confusion (somehow) was with Boyd Nielson, and his (and collective’s) very cool new mag Homage to the Last Poet.
Anyway, Happy Holidays to all DE’ers, including to Franz Wright, and I mean that, and may everyone get the gift of jeans they desire.
I wonder whether Kent in his kind words doesn’t have me confused with Mary Shelley. Or am I now the one confused? “El niño que yo era / se extravió en el bosque / y ahora el bosque tiene mi edad.” Anyway, I would be remiss if I didn’t say that the pamphlet to which Kent refers (and for which I can take credit not at all) has some terrific stuff in it.
“If there were no jeans, there would be no epic poetry.”
- John Milton, Paradise Lost
By the way, Whitman differs from Ginsberg, Dylan, et al, in that he had no say in the use of his work, both he and his copyrights being long expired. I suspect a guy so deeply committed to altruism would be pretty pissed at his work (and rep.) being used in this way.
re. the hypothetical question: I would do it. Why? Because I dislike poverty. On a higher level, I would try and justify it by reasoning that the more poetry gets exposed to the public eye, the better. One condition though; I would refuse to write any kind of “Ode to Levis.” It would simply be a poem (come to think of it through, I did once write a poem beginning “In those days, a pair of pants would last you a thousand years.” Maybe they’d like that one?)
Ginsberg donated his Gap ad money to the Naropa Institute. Not that that places him above criticism (although it would have if he had donated it to, like, Oxfam or PETA or some organization that would have used it to actually save lives). Dylan, of course, never pretended to be above taking corporate money—you’ll recall his label was Columbia Records. I would take anyone’s money in a heartbeat—as my relationship with the Poetry Foundation should make clear. (Just kidding, Don.)
Not that that places him above criticism
Yeah, it’s not so different than Tom Cruise donating money to the Scientologists.
There goes your Summer School gig, Sr. Baird.
I want to know what the hell you’re doing to your jeans, Robbins. I mean, two years and they fall apart? I’ve had some of the same jeans since I was an eager-eyed young assistant prof. In fact, I’m pretty sure my relentless cover-bending and note-taking make me wear out books of poetry faster than I wear out jeans.
So anyway. Either:
A. I am willing to wear jeans in utterly disgraceful repair, or
B. You have some form of habitual action, such as squirming animatedly on the rough surface of, say, an old-style nylon-strap-seated lawn chair, which puts undo stress on your jeans. In which case you’re probably over-caffinating.
Frankly, I’m concerned for at least one of us.
Bob
My friend Rose writes: “notice how all the people on digital emunction probably spend more on jeans than they do on poetry because you losers all get poetry for free.”
As to jeans lasting for more than a couple of years: so have I heard, & do in part believe it. Mine invariably get holes in the knees. Maybe I’m wearing them wrong. Or I should wear some pants besides jeans, which I almost never do. I had to wear a suit the other day, though. Oh, I do cut a dashing figure, I won’t lie.
Michael, it’s a time zone thing. I get to have Christmas a day before the U.S. does.
Yeah, I figured. Just a little Christmas Eve Christmas Eve humor.
I can honestly say that I’ve spent MUCH more on poetry than jeans, though I dearly love both.
Chelsea Clemmons, Author of A Collection of Reflections
http://www.strategicpublishinggroup.com/title/ACollectionOfReflections.html
http://z3.invisionfree.com/Chelsea_Clemmons/index.php?act=idx
http://chelsealclemmonsofficialblog.blogspot.com/
http://authorclemmons.livejournal.com/
hey jenny,
so my revelation is that I’ve never owned a pair of jeans–any jeans, levis or otherwise. jeans are things that make others look breathtakingly beautiful, but not me. but poems I have tried on, I have bought, and I have taken home with me and worn until they are threadbare. My most well-worm poem is Szymborksa’s “The End and The Beginning.” When I wear it it makes me feel . . . yes, it makes me feel. Last year, I spent about $300 dollars on books about $100 was spent on poetry books. I spent 0 on levis.
elena
My first instinct was to be insulted by Levi’s ad campaign. I love Whitman, just as I love Dickens and Twain. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the ads, particularly “O, Pioneers!”
Levi’s (at least from a historical stand-point) is quintessentially American. The company was founded by a German immigrant, Strauss was the first man to patent his invention, and they were created for American, Blue Collar Miners. Even sending their factories over seas was a great capitalistic move. And what is America better at than making capitalistic moves? Its good for business. I’m not saying that makes it right, or fair, but facts are facts.
Its a also a great Marketing Campaign. Sure, its subject to criticism, and deserves to be picked apart. Does it make me want to buy Levi’s right now? No. Does it make any other pair of jeans look like hog-wash in comparison? No. But its a well put-together, well used advertisement, and its a breath of fresh air in the ad world.
I’m an English major, so I probably spent somewhere around $200 this year on anthologies, novels, poetry collections and English/Creative writing text books. Roughly half of these were poetry. I spent maybe $50 on jeans (I scour sale racks and use coupons).
What matters to me is not the monetary value. I value my “Leaves of Grass; Original and Death-Bed Editions” with my scribbles in the margins far more than my holed, faded cotton jeans. Despite the fact that Old Walt doesn’t do as nearly as much for my butt as American Eagle.
MY goodness! Such a lot of nice-sounding pants. All I can say re: poetry + jeans is
i don’t gotta pay for it, and i take what i get gladly enough.
A hint from the hairy home-maker on the topic: Always wear underwear either of a similar colour to your jeans. Extends the wear no end. A jauntily appropriate contrast is OK too, in my books.
ooo, editing train wreck
i really must start reading over posts
Jeans fall apart; the center cannot hold.
@Heather: re: Movement Poems Inside Jeans: happens to the best of us.