“Seriously, these?” I queried as I turned and modeled the high-waisted, flared-legged jeans.

“Those,” Jeff said with conviction.

“Why?” I eyed myself in the mirror.

“Dat ass,” he said, laughing.

I went into the dressing room, stripped off the wide-leg retro jeans and dropped them in my keep pile before trying on a skinny pair of capris in a faded wash.

I came back out. Only I had a boyfriend who could, and would, willingly, sit for an hour in a dressing-room chair to watch me try on jeans during Spring Break.

“How about these?”

He spun his finger in the air, and I did a twirl.

“Again, but move slower when we get to the part where you’re facing away from me.”

I rolled my... Read More