Best 286 quotes in «jeans quotes» category

When you're single and in your 20s, you throw on a pair of jeans and look fabulous.

When you're wearing jeans there's a shift in your center of gravity. A costume like this and a character like this, there's no way to hide. If you try and play him any way sort of modern or normal, you diminish. He's larger than life. He's 150 percent. You've got to go for it all the time. It was just impossible.

You're never going to see the fat Elvis in me. People I admired like Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and John Belushi all died at 27. I've got jeans older than that.

You can be the chicest thing in the world in a T-shirt and jeans - it's up to you.

You managed to get him a duster, but you couldn't find me a pair of jeans?

With unisex fashion, you know, females were doing it first. You're the reason we have unisex clothing. It's because girls said, "Wait, I can wear jeans, too! I can wear a suit, too.

You can make jeans and a t-shirt super stylish. It's what you make of it, you know?

You can try to trick the people and come out wearing a fedora and a tuxedo but that's not me. I was born in the late '70s, I wear jeans. I don't hang out in casinos. The lifestyle isn't my thing. I don't drink martinis and I don't smoke cigars.

You expect a basketball player to come with a white button-down, Balmain jeans, and Balenciagas. You expect that. But when I come with an extended button-down, camos, no socks, Louboutins that have spikes on them, and a bow tie with diamonds, you'll be like, "What? Who dressed him?

You just don't expect posh girls to grab your tits, call your trousers "too clitty" and use words like "pussy pelmet" but they do. You are so shocked by what they are saying that by the time you have recovered and thought of something to say they have whipped you out of your jeans and eased you into a Lycra cat suit.

You might be a redneck if you see a sign that says Say No To Crack and it reminds you to pull your jeans up.

You're jeans are full of crap. You're full of beans, you're in you teens. You've lost your mama's road map.

You're never too old to play. You're only too old for low-rise jeans.

Bagi Roy, jeans ibarat hidup. Semakin dia lusuh, semakin dia enak dinikmati.

An old fashioned outfit is not a costume, it's a comedy.

Any girl with a grin never looks grim.

He wears jeans, untucked shirts, and a Glock 19, and he has a big shaggy dog named Bob.

Can we just stop pretending that skinny jeans are a good look on anyone? Can we just band together and go for a boot cut, please? Ladies?

Fashion doesn't make you perfect, but it makes you pretty.

His tightly fitting jeans were unmistakably French.

Carajo!" Paco says, throwing down his lunch. "They think they can buy a U-shaped shell, stuff it, and call it a taco, but those cafeteria workers wouldn't know taco meat from a piece of shit. That's what this tastes like, Alex." "You're makin' me sick, man," I tell him. I stare uncomfortably at the food I brought from home. Thanks to Paco everything looks like mierda now. Disgusted, I shove what's left of my lunch into my brown paper bag. "Want some of it?" Paco says with a grin as he holds out the shitty taco to me. "Bring that one inch closer to me and you'll be sorry," I threaten. "I'm shakin' in my pants." Paco wiggles the offending taco, goading me. He should seriously know better. "If any of that gets on me--" "What'cha gonna do, kick my ass?" Paco sings sarcastically, still shaking the taco. Maybe I should punch him in the face, knocking him out so I won't have to deal with him right now. As I have that thought, I feel something drop on my pants. I look down even though I know what I'll see. Yes, a big blob of wet, gloppy stuff passing as taco meat lands right on the crotch of my faded jeans. "Fuck," Paco says, his face quickly turning from amusement to shock. "Want me to clean it off for you?" "If your fingers get anywhere close to my dick, I'm gonna personally shoot you in the huevos," I growl through clenched teeth. I flick the mystery meat off my crotch. A big, greasy stain lingers. I turn back to Paco. "You got ten minutes to get me a new pair of pants." "How the hell am I s'posed to do that?" "Be creative." "Take mine." Paco stands and brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning right in the middle of the courtyard. "Maybe I wasn't specific enough," I tell him, wondering how I'm going to act like the cool guy in chem class when it looks like I've peed in my pants. "I meant, get me a new pair of pants that will fit me, pendejo. You're so short you could audition to be one of Santa Claus's elves." "I'm toleratin' your insults because we're like brothers." "Nine minutes and thirty seconds." It doesn't take Paco more than that to start running toward the school parking lot.

I have often said that I wish I had invented blue jeans: the most spectacular, the most practical, the most relaxed and nonchalant. They have expression, modesty, sex appeal, simplicity - all I hope for in my clothes.

The holes in my jeans ans the holes in my boots make me whole!

The holes in my boots and the holes in my jeans make me whole!

There’s a pulse in my body, vibrating every pressure point. “I like kissing you.” His hand lowers to my waist. “I could kiss you forever.” I lazily glance at him from under my eyelashes. “Just kissing.” Because I think I’ll combust if we do more. The right side of his mouth quirks. “Just kissing. And some touching.” To prove his point Isaiah’s hands caress my back, weave into my hair and slide against the dip of my waist. Yes, definitely some touching. I inhale deeply, reminding myself that breathing is still a requirement. “I agree. Some touching. No new clothes off.” Because I’d probably pass out at the thought of his jeans off. They already hang low on his hips. Too low. Very low. Low enough that I start to imagine what more there is to him. Isaiah wraps his hand around the back of my neck and performs this deep massage that makes my eyes roll into my head in ecstasy. “I’ll put my shirt back on if you want.” “No,” I breathe out. “I’m fine with it off.” More than fine.

Very well, I promise. So, what did you get for me?" Angeline paused for a beat. "Jeans." "What?" croaked Artemis. "And a T-shirt" ...Artemis took several breaths. "Does the T-shirt have any writing on it?" A rustling of paper crackled through the phone's speakers. "Yes, it's so cool. There's a picture of a boy who for some reason has no neck and only three fingers on each hand, and behind him in this sort of graffiti style is the words RANDOMOSIY. I don't know what that means but it sounds really current." Randomosity though Artemis, and he felt like weeping.

You cannot choose your face but you can choose your dress.

A guy's biggest style mistake is definitely trying to look too cool. As long as you've got a good pair of jeans, a good pair of boots and a few good shirts, you're fine.

All fashion brands are about looking good. Being Human is also about doing good. And you can do good by the simple act of slipping into a t-shirt or a pair of jeans.

A magazine to have style, must need and understand and invest in what jingles - not jiggles - in designer jeans.

A new artist today has to get their teeth fixed, has to tighten their jeans up, and they have to get 'em the right kind of hat, and if anything's wrong with their nose, if it's a little crooked, it's got to be straightened up.

A pair of skinny jeans and a tattoo does not make you a leader.

Are you sure?" A brow arched up. "Because I'm here at your service and taking your jeans off is something I feel I'd be exceptionally wonderful at.

I could live with one butt cheek — just sit at a slant for the rest of my life, not worry about how baggy the seat of my blue jeans looked, get used to the nickname Halfass — but I couldn't live with my brains blown out.

It was the stretch and give of the lycra. And the deep blue, invitingly deep, the deep blue of sleep she longed for, blank and intense, and dissolving everything that would make her toss and turn endlessly through the night.

Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

The holes in my shoes and the holes in my jeans make me whole!

With right fashion, every female would be a flame.

A $50 haircut, cool glasses, skinny jeans and a tattoo does not a prophet make.

A mechanic is just an engineer in blue jeans.

And weren't, when you got right down to it, particularly evil. Human beings mostly aren't. They just get carried away by new ideas, like dressing up in jackboots and shooting people, or dressing up in white sheets and lynching people, or dressing up in tie-dye jeans and and playing guitar at people. Offer people a new creed with a costume and their hearts and minds will follow.

Anormal day looks like, you know, shower, put on the same jeans, the same tattered Gucci loafers I got at the thrift store, white socks, and my t-shirt and my very beat-up Helmut Lang blazer. Im in the exact same outfit every day.

As a rule, wearing a bigger pair of jeans looks better than squishing yourself into a pair of jeans that used to fit before you gave up smoking.

At school, I basically wear one pair of jeans and sneakers for months on end.

At the after-party of the Indy 500, I'm usually wearing jeans and a tank top.

Beauty is not defined by the size of your jeans.

Being from Texas, I would say I favor a pair of jeans you can wear some boots with.

Black people can be the most conservative, the most discriminating. Especially among ourselves. It wasn't white people who said all black men have to wear baggy jeans.

Blanche, prosaic in a pale yellow sweater and blue jeans, was wondering again if anything mattered—-life, faith--specifically, finishing homework assignments.

Blue jeans and Hollywood and rock & roll won the cold war.