Nordstrom’s has been offering what they hope to be a very successful line of blue jeans. 

Not just distressed, but according to the upscale department store, fake mud-splattered jeans so that you can appear to authentically resemble the lower working class. Or, as the ad states, ‘showing the world you’re not afraid to get down and dirty.’

For $425.

I think I love (either that or I’m still numbly trying to grasp the marketing concept) the fact that there will be wealthy people eager to part with their cash to don a piece of apparel that gives them the immediate satisfaction of descending into a different socio-economic class.

I mean, we all enjoy ‘casual Friday’ attire or the idea of house pants and sweats, but to go the extra distance of adding ground-in fake mud as if you’ve just walked off a building site (you may want to send the kids out of the room for this next sentence) is so damned stupid that I can’t stop laughing.

And my mamma didn’t raise no fool, so I’m hopping right on this fashion trend: I’m opening an eBay account today, because I have an untapped fortune folded up in the mudroom (I won’t allow them in my closet because they’re too gross): red clay and grass-stained jeans that are used for stable or gardening chores that are only allowed off the property if I need to go to the feed store or the mulch yard.

Even better, I have an ancient pair of Carhartt quilted coveralls that ought to be worth over a grand because not only are the pant legs encrusted with manure stains, but regardless of how many times they’ve been washed, the odor of urine (the horse’s, not mine, sheesh) still clings. And when I wear them, around January through mid-March, I’ve never felt as though I wanted to appear particularly lower class. Struggling with a wonky wheelbarrow through the mud, filled with horse poo usually does that all by itself. But, they do come in quite handy at clearing the long line in front of me at Bojangles’.

I went online to investigate these jeans and they do look extremely authentic. The ‘mud’ is even sort of slick and wet looking, as if you fell into a drainage ditch on your way to Starbucks, and the care instructions state they require a cold wash and line dry. Shut up. Seriously, shut up.

After all this Nordstrom bashing, there is one image residing in my mind that I can’t quite rid myself of: the overseas worker, sewing all the hours God sends in some cramped, Chinese sweat shop, hemming these faux muddy jeans and just shaking their heads as they attach the price tags and mutter:

“Americans are nuts.”