What does the recession mean for designer jeans? As voters and dressers, California is the nation's fussiest "blue" state, but how do we reconcile the sudden need for durability with our historic addiction to style? This is a dilemma that mirrors the problem besetting the Obama household as it searches for the First Puppy. (It must be hypoallergenic and, preferably, from a shelter.) In LA, jeans have to cradle our haunches like Waterford fruit bowls, and, thanks to the economic downturn, we'd better start zipping into double-stitched denim that can take the slide with us without losing one decorative pocket.

One label likely to see its stock rise again, even in a shattered Dow Jones, is that stalwart of West Coast pants purveyors, San Francisco's Levi Strauss. Forced to sit on the gravel sidelines while designer duds like Seven, True Religion, Rock and Republic, and Citizens for Humanity co-opted the nation's indigo children for themselves, Levi's now stands a chance of reclaiming its former territory. Remember the pair of Levi's from the 1880s that was found in the Nevada mud, still intact? If I can't buy another pair until 2012, I want something that will hang together. As Americans over 40 will be glad to attest, Levi's are indestructible, not to mention sexy as all get out. Before Brad Pitt was Brad Pitt, he starred in Levi's ads in Europe, like the one above.

Bring back the original board-stiff Shrink-to-Fit 501, the garment Americans used to pick up for less than $20 a pair without once sweating the specter of its cut falling from favor by the end of the decade, let alone by nightfall. Will a new form of style competition break out? Are we about to see the major denim design houses craft their wares for the long haul? Will Victoria Beckham put on a welder's mask and take a blow-torch to her Rock and Republic Crystal Crown jeans to prove they can take the punishment? Stone washes and micro-brewed finishes are luxuries we can't afford. I'm ready to ruin my own clothes. How about you?