Stepping from my taxi outside New York City's uber-exclusive French bistro Alain Ducasse, I was suddenly encountered by a rush of panic.
While my friend and I had made our reservations for this particular night months in advance, considering ourselves fortunate to obtain these Wednesday night at 9:30 reservations, and we had scrupulously contemplated our dressy attire for the night -- I in black pants, velvet blazer, and tie, she in a vintage gown and mink shawl -- I could not help but feel entirely belittled by the scene taking place before me.
Sure, I'd been to myriad five-star restaurants across the globe, but this, somehow, felt different.
Though I had yet to view any of the other patrons dining a la Ducasse on this particular evening, their superior, grandiose presence was felt ten times over by the Bentleys, Mybachs, and limos that paved the street on which this epicurean legend resided.
To say the least, my yellow taxi was more than embarrassing, and, if the cars outside were any indication of what must be a regal d???cor and set of diners on the interior, I was clearly to have a demoralizing night out.
As my date and I made our way from the street to the restaurant's entrance, and the doorman swung back the imposing mass of mahogany and brass that kept at bay all those not fit for the Ducasse experience, I held my breath and prayed that, even in my dressiest of fare, I would not be the only male lacking a cummerbund and tails.
Or, worse yet, that the Maitre'd -- the gatekeeper to the dining room -- would assess and reject my garments, sending me and my curious palate to sup elsewhere.
But there, immediately after entering, I was faced with a sight that would remain indelibly engrained in my head, and forever influence my fashion choices when dressing for fine dining.
There, adjacent to her mahogany booth, stood the gatekeeper herself, Ducasse's Maitre'd, dressed in a fine black silk and sequined top and -- blue jeans?
Needless to say, I was in utter shock, with new fears surfacing, like, was I horribly over-dressed?
My eyes immediately darted toward the main dining room and around the entranceway, in a desperate attempt to assess what the other elite patrons of this most exclusive establishment were wearing.
And, to my amazement, rather than gowns and black tuxedo pants, the large majority seemed dressed in the must-have jeans of the moment -- the Paper Denim and Cloth, Seven jeans, and Rock and Republic denim that I and my date wear on a regular basis, but deemed most inappropriate for a night at Ducasse.
And then it dawned on me: Jeans are the new dress pant.
No longer the attire of manual laborers and high-school students, jeans -- in all shades and styles, with or without rips and tears -- have, in today's society, been elevated to the unprecedented level of being made the official attire not only of Ducasse's hostess and exclusive clientele, but also the choice of nightwear for the trendy and style-conscious throughout the country.
Such a paradigm shift falls nothing short of monumental.
The fact that one of Manhattan's finest restaurants, where one would expect only the most sophisticated of apparel, couture even, allows not only its patrons, but its hostess -- the first person upon which the diner lays eyes on entering the establishment -- is a phenomenon unimaginable even five or ten years ago.
So what, then, has changed in society's fabric to allow for a traditionally banal, casual item of clothing to reach dress-wear status?
First, never before have more reputable designer brands -- from Chanel to Escada to Gucci -- made denim an integral component and mainstay of their collections.
Whereas such high fashion brands once tended to evade conventional fabrics like denim, today's top labels have capitalized upon the concept of "casual chic," advocating a "mix and match" style of dress.
This trend -- one that has exceeded the shelf-life of most of-the-moment phenomena -- is evident in the pairing of $4,600 Chanel tweed blazers with $135 Citizens of Humanity blue jeans, a popular ensemble among hipsters of all ages.
In fact, while dining at Ducasse on the night of my fashion epiphany, a 40-something woman adjacent to my table sat prim and proper in youthful James Jeans, which she'd tastefully paired with a Versace silk halter blouse and an impressive array of Cartier diamonds dripping from her limbs -- a bone fide testament to casual-chic.
Furthermore, celebrities and socialites--forever the precursors to what becomes coveted and acceptable in the world of fashion--have gone gaga for the "mix and match" look, arriving at fashion shows, premieres, and even formal events wearing jeans and a blazer -- guys and girls alike -- accompanied by killer heels and a dressy clutch for the ladies, and dressy footwear and a fine timepiece for the gentlemen.
This movement toward casual-dressy also appeals for its basic utility, allowing the wearer an easy transition from dining room to post-dinner activities -- i.e. the clubs and lounges to which trendsetters often head after an epicurean experience.
Whereas in the past one would return home to change out of his or her dinner apparel into more club-appropriate garb, today's casual chic of a blazer, sexy shoes, and jeans permits a swift movement from eatery to bar--no wardrobe change necessary.
To forever dress in the stuffy, traditional manner of our fine-dining predecessors--in black tie and gown--would be entirely un-American. We, as a culture, persistently push the envelope, whether in fashion or politics.
And with the extensive selection available to fashion-savvy consumers today, with some designer denim carrying prices comparable to couture, jeans are no longer an item of clothing to be worn only in casual contexts.
Furthermore, often inextricably hugging the body and cut sinfully low, exposing the wearer's hips and then some, jeans for both men and women have become the ultimate sexy, attention-grabbing apparel.
So, next time you dine with high society, no matter the exclusivity of the restaurant, keep in mind the paradigm shift in appropriate evening attire.
The days of black tie and gowns are over; jeans for dress are here to stay.
