Y'know, back in 2001, when skinny pants were re-introduced to the mainstream again, mostly via band dudes like the ones in AFI, or At the Drive-In, or, more realistically, the Strokes, I was pretty happy. Happy in the sense that the JNCO 40-inch-leg-opening days were over, and also happy in the sense that I was 16 and loved any guy in a band with a good record collection, shaggy hair and tight jeans. (And now I avoidguys in bands—how 'bout that?)
For some reason, I was even more elated at the fact that since no one really made skinny jeans for guys quite yet (though those in the know ventured into punk stores such as Huntington Beach's Electric Chair or Nothing Shocking in Fullerton for their skintight digs), many had to resort to the GAP women's section—as some still do.
Sometime in the 2000s, skinny jeans were spotted on the runways of everyone from Stella McCartney to Dior Homme. Seven years later, you can purchase the style at even your local Mervyn's.
And now that you can't go anywhere without seeing narrow-fit jeans on everybody, paired with everything(the worst: with Rainbow flip-flops. You kinda end up looking like a duck. I'm serious), and being sold everywhere, that's when the taboos come in.
The red pants with the black fedora with the black-velvet blazer with the white Hanes tee (with the hemming torn partially off—not braces, like I originally thought), with the long black unkempt hair with the D'Artagnan (or the Pringles guy) facial hair all leads to one image: Jack White circa Get Behind Me Satan.
So, how tight is too tight?
Too tight is when your (red) pants are so tight, people can make out the exact location of your knee caps. And uh, the exact location of, uh, other things. Or other . . . thing.