Invented to keep carbon monoxide crazed minah birds from pecking at miners legs in the 18th century, jeans are and always have been, the practical way of covering that unsightly lower portion of your body.
So who buys designer jeans anyway? What separates a man wearing k-mart Waist overalls from a man who spends $400 on a pair of Levi Strauss heavy mesh sapphire drainpipes? Probably not income or taste or personal preference as one might assume but a certain wordly attitude. The designer jeans man thinks that people recognise his *ahem*... fancy pants, that women turn and look saying to themselves, "Hey look at that suave bastard, I'd like to nail him despite any glaring emotional or physical problems," where men look upon his multi-tonal denim with green, lustful eyes.
The truth of the matter being that most guys see those jeans for the peacock facade that they are. They know that most jeans are made in the same factory from the same cotton by the same sweatshop workers. They know that women value hair, car and incomes far more highly and that no item of clothing is worth more than $50.
It is not the jeans who are at fault though, jeans being only semi-sentient and half as vain as most men. It is not the designer. Deciding on buttons, zips and how many faded lines to put on the jeans does not directly affecting the wants of delinquent tweens and walking mannequins. Is it the guy who piles up the catalogues in the store itself? Maybe. No! It is the same greedy hustlers who made the decision to provide us with 200 varieties of hot sauce (which, like jeans, are essentially all the same) and cooking oil. They are the ones marketing jeans that are supposed to be made special for different life styles (see below).