I often find that my opinions run counter to received wisdom.

   I'm not trying to be a maverick, an attention-seeker or a contrarian but I'll frequently ended up voicing my thoughts and realising I'm alone in a crowd of one. For instance, and this may shake your very foundations to the core, I think the Star Wars franchise is simply not very good. Similarly, I'm probably the only Corbynista I've met who still loves Tony Blair. Furthermore, the best England footballer of all times is Owen Hargreaves, Paul Weller's creative peak was in the Style Council and Richard Nixon is arguably the greatest president America ever had. I'll gladly, and passionately, debate anyone on these issues. These are truths that should be universally acknowledged.

   Yet, on occasion, I have to put my hand up and admit I was wrong. This does not happen very often but, when it does, I'm not afraid to accept the folly of my ways; the chuntering masses were correct all along and perhaps I can learn something from popular opinion. My good opinion once lost is lost forever. This is most true in the case of jeans.

   For many years, not only have I been an advocate for smart trousers, I've actively stated my dislike for denim. Whilst vociferously making exceptions for Bruce Springteen - the man is a law upon himself; who am I to judge The Boss? - I've declared that jeans are not appropriate attire for adult men in a casual setting. Sure, they're great clothing if you're working a shift in the garage, but surely they're not okay to wear to formal events? I put my fingers in my ears to the obviously logical rebuttals that came my way.

   It is only in the last couple of years or so that I've realised jeans and I had gotten off on the wrong footing; like great lovers in a Jane Austen novel we're meant to be together despite initial hesitations. Like Elizabeth Bennet gazing onwards at Mr Darcy, I've begun to see that it was pride and prejudice on my behalf which kept us apart. Oh, how foolhardy were my ways!



   After I acknowledged the error of my manner, I suddenly realised the words which people had been speaking of jeans were true and pure. "They're comfortable" is the primary argument I heard in their favour. This is undeniable. Similarly too, a decent pair are effortless and candid without ostentation. Best of all, like Doc Martens, denim is durable and - provided they're gently treated with love and affection - can last for years and years. As with all matters of the heart, once we've found "the one" we should do everything in our power to keep them. On the other hand, abuse either and we'll finding ourselves with a dreaded hole in the knee/heart situation - sure, we can attempt to mend the tears with patches/jewelry but such a solution is ugly and temporary.

   Yet, with love, things are easier these days than in Austen's times of yore - everybody can find their soulmate with little more effort than half an hour of sifting through Tinder profiles these days, right? Selecting the right pair of jeans, however, is much more difficult - we can't just swipe right on every pair whilst praying the odds will work in our favour, hoping one is bound to be a match.

   So, as Jacamo have been asking on their blog , how exactly do we find the one (pair of jeans)?

   My first tip is to look in the mirror and temet ipsum ad esse verum (to thine own self be true). So, for example, if you are not a snake-hipped teenager you really need to be asking yourself questions about whether those slim-fits you've been eyeing up are suitable. If you're not Harry Styles then your eyes should be wandering elsewhere.

   Secondly, take stock of what is in your own wardrobe and look to complement what is already in there. If a large percent of your clothes are on the smart side of the equation you may need to be careful - you may be under the impression that teaming jeans with a shirt and blazer gives you the appearance of David Beckham wandering the streets of New York at night but, sadly, the reality may be closer to the appearance of Jeremy Clarkson frequenting a Chipping Norton afternoon of cheese-tasting and xenophobia.

   Fashion and romance, however, often boil down to plain old confidence. You're not going to get the girl unless you tell her how you feel - Lloyd Dobler didn't get Diane Court by being a wall-flower. Ditto with fashion - if you wear a pair of jeans that you don't feel comfortable in, you're not going to be able to pull them off. Look in the mirror again, decide the look you want to go for and jump in head first. If that means ignoring my first two rules, then do so. Nobody is entitled to tell you that that girl/those jeans ain't for you. What I will tell you, though, is that Richard Nixon is the greatest. Debate with me if you like because, on ever so rare occasions, I get things wrong.

* This post was part of Jacamo's Denim Dilemma Campaign