Quotes & Sayings About White Jeans

When it comes to white jeans, fabric is key. — George Kotsiopoulos

He'd give anything to be out there playing instead of standing here watching. Trying to maintain this smile out of respect. He digs into his wrists some more with his nails. Breaks previously broken skin and pulls away. A smear of blood he wipes away with his other hand, rubs off across his dark jeans. Back home his mom is always on him to stop digging, but that only makes him want to dig more."
-exerpt from "Mexican White Boy — Matt De La Pena

To her, Do yu know the name of dis place where we is at? But the third girl did not know either. She just stood there, and she was wearing a blue T-shirt and blue denim jeans and white Dunlop Green Flash trainers, and she just looked down at her own see-through bag, and her bag was full of letters and documents. There was so — Chris Cleave

Her nostrils found the scent of her womanly wetness, wafting from the seat below her. Maybe she'd climb in the back As she did, she slipped off her jeans and her white cotton panties, slightly damp white cotton panties now. She couldn't resist a little sniff. Now her ample soft, round buttocks would enjoy the cool — A.M. Ball

Black people can be the most conservative, the most discriminating. Especially among ourselves. It wasn't white people who said all black men have to wear baggy jeans. — Kanye West

Anormal day looks like, you know, shower, put on the same jeans, the same tattered Gucci loafers I got at the thrift store, white socks, and my t-shirt and my very beat-up Helmut Lang blazer. I'm in the exact same outfit every day. — Natasha Lyonne

Well, don't you look lovely," his voice dripped behind me, his breath tickling my ear as his words trickled in my brain.
Turning slowly, I saw him in his usual attire, a white t-shirt and jeans, but he looked incredible. His dark hair appeared darker in the dimmed lighting, his eyes shone with eagerness.
"You're here," I said dumbly. Like he didn't know he was here. I was such an idiot sometimes.
"I am," he said, a sexy smirk showing on one side of his mouth. "Wanna dance?" he asked, his leg shaking nervously, his eyes desperately searching mine for an answer.
I nodded, unable to speak. We'd kised, but only a couple of times. He grabbed me, pulling me to a spot close to where we stood. Warm fingers of one hand circled around my waist, while the others held my had. He pulled me close, every inch of our bodies touching. His eyes never left mine as we swayed and spun. I was lost in all that was Cade Kelling. — Felicia Tatum

But apart from that single expensive item, she stayed away from the high-dollar racks. Luxury was all well and good for a Fae prince, but what would she do with a pair of six-hundred-dollar Gucci boots? She'd be afraid to walk in them. Probably trip and break an ankle or something, and wasn't there some old fairy tale about stolen shoes that punished the thief? She knew better than most people that fairy tales had a twisted way of coming true.
She slipped into jeans and laced up tennis shoes. A sturdy pair of hiking boots went into the satchel.
She was done before he was. Figured. And when he returned, he was wearing dark, tattooed Armani jeans, with a sheer white silk tee and six-hundred dollar Gucci boots.
Which also figured. — Karen Marie Moning

At home, a T-shirt and something loose like harem pants would do. If I'm stepping out, a pair of blue jeans and a white tee are just fine. — Genelia D'Souza

shirt. See?" she said, gesturing at a big brown splotch on her white blouse - a splotch that was now dripping down onto her jeans. "I'm sorry. I didn't even notice. — Jenn Hype

I watch him, enthralled as slowly, like the predator he is, he stalks me in time to the slow sultry beat of the music. He's barefoot, wearing just an untucked white shirt, jeans, and a smoldering look.
Nina sings "You're mine" as Christian reaches me, his intention clear. — E.L. James

My sense of style is an old Polo shirt, jeans and, unfortunately for the longest time, white running shoes, which was not attractive. The one thing I've learned about clothes is to ask a girl. — Matthew Perry

I dye my jeans jet black once a week, but they never seem dark enough. I bleach my hair bright white twice a month but it never seems light enough. I drink two and a half bottles of champagne every night but I never seem drunk enough. And I know I'm not high enough until someone grabs my face to check my vision to see if I'm still responsive - And even then, I'm thinking to myself that I should probably do one more line, you know, just to be safe. — Kris Kidd

Shouldn't death , I thought, be a swandive, graceful, white-winged and smooth, leaving the surface undisturbed?
Blue jeans tumbled in the dryer. — Don DeLillo

He's wearing black jeans and an amazingly hot black biker jacket over a white T-shirt.His normally casual bedhead is not perfectly styled bedhead. He also has light blue skin, but his tattoo are understated, just dots in a straight line that go ear from ear, crossing the bridge of his nose. He props himself against the doorway, and my head goes blank.
"I like the viney things you have going on there."
I clear my throat because it has suddenly gone dry.
"Thanks. You look very ... " I trail off because i almost said elf-a-licious — Leah Rae Miller

Josey?" She heard her mother's voice in the hall, then the thud of her cane as she came closer. "Please don't tell her I'm here," the woman in the closet said, with a strange sort of desperation. Despite the cold outside, she was wearing a cropped white shirt and tight dark blue jeans that sat low, revealing a tattoo of a broken heart on her hip. Her hair was bleached white-blond with about an inch of silver-sprinkled dark roots showing. Her mascara had run and there were black streaks on her cheeks. She looked drip-dried, like she'd been walking in the rain, though there hadn't ... — Sarah Addison Allen

I came to Savannah to see where it all began ... where I began. But right now, I swear to God I flew to the other side of the pond just to see Theo in a dirty white T-shirt and faded blue jeans with holes in the knees, a red bandana wrapped around his head, and the most vulnerable look in his blue eyes. — Jewel E. Ann

Isabelle took out her invitation and waved it like a white flag. "I have an invitation. These" - she indicated the rest of the group with a grand wave of her arm - "are my friends."
Magnus plucked the invitation out of her hand and looked at it with fastidious distaste. "I must have been drunk," he said. He threw the door open. "Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests."
Jace edged into the doorway, sizing up Magnus with his eyes. "Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?"
"Even then." Magnus's hand shot out, so fast it was barely a blur. He plucked the stele out of Jace's hand - Clary hadn't even realized he was holding it - and held it up. Jace looked faintly abashed. "As for this," Magnus said, sliding it into Jace's jeans pocket, "keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter. — Cassandra Clare

Miguel tries to look jokey-penitent, but misses and looks like a man in white jeans who underestimates a spot of flatulence. — David Mitchell

I think my style is classic - I like wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt. — Kim Kardashian

I feel like my style's always been influenced by 'less is more.' The coolest styles are kind of simple and classic, like a white T-shirt and jeans. Maybe you have a cool belt and cool shoes, but everything else you keep simple. — Chris Evans

Paris came down the stairs looking incredible. He'd gone with the simple classic look of the tight white T-shirt,
the low-slung jeans that showed off a glimpse of his flat belly, and a black leather jacket. His hair was perfectly mussed, a
calculated look that seemed natural and sexy. At the bottom of the staircase, he turned around slowly, holding his arms out
to his sides. "Well, how do I look?"

Damn. "Like I want to rip your clothes off right this second. You're gonna kill that kid. He's going to explode, and they're going
to have to scrape his remains off the wall."

"Yeesh, I was with you until you got descriptive."

"Can't help it. You make me poetic."

"I thought I made you horny."

"Same damn thing. — Andrea Speed

I went to bed wearing my oldest, most faded flannel shirt, the bra that had looked all right in the catalog but was obviously an escapee from a downmarket nursing home when it arrived, white cotton panties that had had pansies on them about seven hundred washings ago and were now a kind of mottled gray, and the jeans I usually wore for housecleaning or raking Yolande's garden because they were too shabby for work even if I never came out of the bakery. Food inspector arrest-on-sight jeans. Oh, and fuzzy green plaid socks. It was a cool night for summer. Relatively. I lay down on top of the bedspread. And slept through till the alarm at three-forty-five. He hadn't come. T — Robin McKinley

I was lucky to live in New York when it was dangerous and edgy and cheap enough to play host to young, penniless artists. That was the era of "coffee shops" as they were defined in New York - cheap restaurants open round the clock where you could eat for less than it would cost to cook at home. That was the era of ripped jeans and dirty T-shirts, when the kind of people who are impressed by material signs of success were not the people you wanted to know. — Edmund White

Holder walks in dressed in a casual white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, his hair freshly washed since our run this morning. As soon as I see him, the stomach virus/hot flashes/butterflies return. — Colleen Hoover

I adore the designer B. Michael's curve-flattering gowns, but there is nothing better than jeans with a crisp white shirt. — Tamara Tunie

The print was an old one made from a negative taken in the 1960's of her parents in Sydney Mines, dancing with thrilled, excited expressions on their faces, in front of a classic car that had been a wedding gift at the time. Her mother's hair, red back then, was held back by a blue handkerchief, and she was dressed in a billowing skirt and white blouse. Her father's denim jeans and faded t-shirt were streaked with coal dust as he held her hands and spun her around in the front yard of their old clapboard house, yellow grass under their feet and a cobalt-blue sky with white clouds drifting above. Mandy could almost feel the late summer breeze as she gazed deeply into the print, watching the flamboyant colors come to life. She hung it up to dry on two wooden clothespins hanging from a string above her. — Rebecca McNutt

I feel most bossy in jeans, a white t-shirt, a leather jacket and some heels. I just feel bossy that way. I also feel confident in a sick dress at a premiere. Like most women, as long as I'm comfortable in it, I feel confident. — Tika Sumpter

So what made you think he was a ghost?" Maggie interrupted.

"The next time I saw him it was five years later, and he hadn't aged at all. Then a few years passed, and I saw him again. He looked exactly the same, same blue jeans and white shirt, same everything right down to the 50s hair do with the duck butt in the back. Pardon the language, Miss Honeycutt." Gus gave a sheepish grin. "I just didn't know what else to call it.

"I'm well aware of what a duck's butt is Gus," Aunt Irene said primly.

"A duck's butt?" Shad hooted. Rising from his seat he squatted down and waddled around the table, shaking his skinny butt wildly. "That's what this move is called, Maggie, a duck's butt."

"Shadrach, sit down." Gus smiled to soften the reprimand.

Maggie tried not to laugh and ended up snorting instead. Aunt Irene looked at her sharply, and Maggie quickly changed the subject. — Amy Harmon

I wear the same thing every day. I always pack two black jackets, loads of black T-shirts, loads of white jeans. I feel a little fresh and glamorous and graphic. — Michael Kors

Lend finished texting someone and slipped his phone into his back pocket, then stood up. I'd never paid much attention to guys' jeans before (not for lack of desire, but rather lack of opportunity in the Center), but in the past few months I'd come to realize that most guys' jeans are really, truly horrendous. Too baggy, too tight, too low, etc. It's like guys don't realize that they can look great in a good pair of jeans. Shockingly enough girls, too, enjoy a well-framed butt.
Another area Lend was perfect in. His jeans choice, I mean. Well, his butt, too.
I smiled and stared at his face, watching his two profiles - the glamour one, which fit snugly over his real one. He looked down and caught me staring.
"Evie?"
"You, my dear boyfriend, are kind of beautiful, you know that?"
"That's what all the old ladies tell me before pinching my cheek."
"Which cheek?" I reached out and goosed him. He jumped and swatted my hand away, laughing. — Kiersten White

showered and dressed in jeans and a white eyelet — Noelle Adams

My wildest tipping point moment came when I was introduced to Clint Eastwood. He was sitting there, typical Clint Eastwood, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, holding a Budweiser. He looks at me and says, "I watch your show from time to time." I just stopped. I was like, "I can't even think about that. I'm not even sure if I'm happy about that." — Chris Harrison

Despite the cold outside, she was wearing a cropped white shirt and tight dark blue jeans that sat low, revealing a tattoo of a broken heart on her hip. Her hair was bleached white-blond with about an inch of silver-sprinkled dark roots showing. Her mascara had run and there were black streaks on her cheeks. She looked drip-dried, like she'd been walking in the rain, though there hadn't been rain for days. She smelled like cigarette smoke and river water. — Sarah Addison Allen

It is best if the guard is in love with America and wants to overawe the American by being a premium guard. This kind of guard thinks that he will encounter the American again one day in America, and that the American will offer to take him to a Chicago Bulls game, and buy him blue jeans and white
bread and delicate toilet paper. This guard dreams of speaking English
without an accent and obtaining a wife with an unmalleable bosom. This guard will confess that he does not love where he lives.
The other kind of guard is also in love with America, but he will hate the American for being an American. This is worst. This guard knows he will never go to America, and knows that he will never meet the American again. He will steal from the American, and terror the American, only to teach that he can. — Jonathan Safran Foer

He was young, no older than fifteen, pale and dark-haired, wearing jeans and a soft white T-shirt that had SHAKESPEARE HATES YOUR EMO POEMS written across the chest. — Marjorie M. Liu

I find that the 'moms club' is a very, very exclusive club! It's the club of mothers who wear skinny jeans and white button-down shirts and wash their hair twice a day! I do not, and mothers who do make me feel really bad. You know who I am talking about! — Marissa Jaret Winokur

I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax."
I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me.
Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body.
"I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now," I quipped. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Contrary to conventional wisdom, the blue blazer's a bit of a loose cannon. A suit decided long ago what it wanted to be, and it doesn't want to hear your ideas, but a blue blazer only got around to half the job. So it leaves it up to you to find its bottoms. Gray slacks, blue jeans, patterns, white pants and different blue shades all work. — Willie Geist

I looked over. Somehow, I wasn't surprised to find the homeless guy from the rail yard sitting in the shotgun seat. His jeans were so worn out they were almost white. His coat was ripped, with stuffing coming out. He looked kind of like a teddy bear that had been run over by a truck. — Rick Riordan

He wore jeans and a thin white singlet which clung to his broad chest. His tanned biceps bunched as he hammered away, and his skin glowed with perspiration under the warm sun. Harriet's mouth went bone-dry. A rush of heat boiled over her, licking her skin, surging inside her breasts, her thighs. Her response was instantaneous. She had no control over it. One look at Adam's body and desire ignited in her. — Coleen Kwan

I stopped looking at the cars after the first few miles. Once I started to see past the exteriors, I saw what lay inside some of them and felt the urge to sprint to the nearest freeway exit. Some people had tried to outrun The Plague by leaving town. They hadn't realized the illness could still find them in their cars, and now the 405 was one of the largest graveyards in the world. I thought for a moment about all of the other cities across the globe that probably had scenes just like this. My eyes stung, wondering if my mother, my dad, or any of my friends were in similar graveyards.
I made the mistake of glancing into an overturned Volkswagen Beetle as I passed and saw a pair of legs clad in jeans and white Jack Purcell sneakers in the shadows of the car. They reminded me of Sarah's shoes. The man who laced those up that morning hadn't realized he wouldn't be taking them off again. — Kirby Howell

The echoes of my knock were still ringing when the door swung open, revealing a short, cheerfully curvy woman with spiky brown hair streaked with bleach-white lines that looked more accidental than anything else. She was wearing an electric orange T-shirt that read DO NOT TAUNT THE OCTOPUS, jeans, and a lab coat, and was pointing a hunting rifle at the middle of my chest. — Mira Grant

...Stella's tiny butt stuck in the air as she stretched to reach a weed. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a button-down pink and white checked shirt that was tucked into the elastic waistband of her pants. She reminded Rusty of an elf. "Excuse me, Stella?" "You stop right there if you have trouble on your mind. As you can see, I have plenty of birds, and I'll knock you out with one of them," Stella said without looking up. Rusty wanted to say that she'd yank up her own plastic flamingo and work Stella over with it in a heartbeat. Instead, she took a calming breath and said, "I made something you might like to have." "If it's a grenade launcher, I'm listening, Achmed. — Robin Alexander

Thierry." He kept using that placating tone. "I don't plan on going anywhere." "Good." I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, then pasted on the syrupy-sweet smile I usually reserved for con jobs on Mom. "Then you won't mind me not going anywhere with you." "Stubborn." Eyes flickering to white, he lowered his head, parted his lips. "You're going to try to kiss me with that mouth? After what you just said?" I jabbed the unlock icon on the key fob dangling from his fingers then shoved him back. "Dream on, Shaw. — Hailey Edwards

After he left the house, she dried her hair and dressed in a pair of old, comfortable jeans and a white hoodie. Ordinarily, she'd take the time to put on makeup, but today she didn't feel the need to hide anything. She was who she was: a woman who'd survived a war of the heart and had the wrinkles to prove it. (Night Road, page 382) — Kristin Hannah

Zebra print leggings. A black leather jacket. Boots as big as your head, a pink feather boa, blue jeans, Hanes T-shirts in white and black - — J.R. Ward

My least favorite thing was a man who had severe white-man's ass, where the jeans just bagged over the butt. I wanted something to hold on to, something to sink my teeth into. When I said I liked meat on my men I didn't just mean one thing. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I wore a white tank and jeans, shooting for "sexy casual." Hoping it wasn't "left farmhouse, got lost. — Kathy Reichs

Jem looked at ease in a white sweater and dark jeans. His black hair had a single, dramatic streak of silver in it that stood out against his brown skin. — Cassandra Clare

Some of the men were dressed like Peter and wore red plaid hunting jackets or bulky tan Carhartt jackets or lined flannel shirts, and all of those men were wearing jeans and work boots. Some of the men wore ski jackets and hiking boots and the sort of many-pocketed army green pants that made you want to get out of your seat and rappel. Some of the men wore wide-wale corduroy pants and duck boots and cable0knit sweaters and scarves. It was a regular United Nations of white American manhood. But all the men, no matter what they were wearing, were slouching in their chairs, with their legs so wide open that it seemed as though there must be something severely wrong with their testicles. — Brock Clarke

She's shed her skins
and plasma jeans, gets around in 2K
retro gear like the frock she wears today;
a loose, white elegy to what's been lost.
Already she's flowing back into herself
the way a river flows to fill a creek bed.
But some hard layer has washed away
and left her softer, more interested. — Lisa Jacobson

I grew up in the 90s in the time of grunge when if you didn't go on stage in jeans and a T shirt you weren't 'real.' That seemed ridiculous to me. — Jack White

Admittedly, guilt can be my default setting. After a social gathering, I'm often left with a vague sense of wrongdoing that I try to pinpoint the source of. Had I laughed insensitively or slighted someone unintentionally? And I always feel accused in Nordstrom. The saleswomen look at my jeans and inexpensive haircut and I'm sure they're thinking I'm about to slip a pair of earrings into my purse. I feel guilty when I eat white bread and when I don't recycle. — Deb Caletti

Hey. Do you want a cracker?" a velvet voice asked me.
I didn't look up, I wasn't sure if he was even talking to me. Why would an attractive senior be talking to me?
"Hey, I'm talking to you," he said, a chuckle in his voice.
I slowly lifted my head peering at him from under my long lashes. His dark brown hair swept across his forehead, and his deep blue eyes made me gasp. He wore the ultimate laid back style, a white t-shirt and jeans. All he needed was a black leather jacket, and he would be the bad boy from my book. The smile on his face was breathtaking and I found myself unable to speak. — Felicia Tatum

If I'm not comfortable, I'm not happy. When I go to the White House, I wear my jeans. — Bobbi Brown

Most of the members of the convent were old-fashioned Satanists, like their parents and grandparents before them. They'd been brought up to it, and weren't, when you got right down to it, particularly evil. Human beings mostly aren't. They just get carried away by new ideas, like dressing up in jackboots and shooting people, or dressing up in white sheets and lynching people, or dressing up in tie-dye jeans and playing guitars at people. Offer people a new creed with a costume and their hearts and minds will follow. Anyway, being brought up as a Satanist tended to take the edge off it. It was something you did on Saturday nights.
And the rest of the time you simply got on with life as best you could, just like everyone else. — Terry Pratchett

Dressed in a white labcoat over jeans and a pink buttoned blouse, Liza was in her late fifties, and was tall enough that she was very tired of answering whether or not she'd played basketball in school. It was fortunate her clients were, for the most part, dead - as that was the only type of person who didn't seem to bother her. — Brandon Sanderson

Someone could cut through the mess in our house and look at it like one might look at rings on a tree or layers of sediment. They'd find the black-and-white hairs of a dog we had when I was six, the acid-washed jeans my mother once wore, the seven blood-soaked pillowcases from the time I skinned my knee. All our family secrets rest in endless piles. — Holly Black

Prince William looks good in uniform and Man-at-Hackett black and white tie (he has grown up wearing it constantly); less certain in his suits, which sometimes look borderline archaic; and variable in casual. But completely comfortable in the Sloane uniform of non-designer jeans and chocolate-brown suede loafers. He'll look fine in Boden. — Peter York

Thomas Pynchon looks exactly like Thomas Pynchon should look. He is tall, he wears lumberjack shirts and blue jeans. He has Albert Einstein white hair and Bugs Bunny front teeth. — Salman Rushdie

It was a little harder when I first went to Egypt when I was 18 years old and being a white woman with a knapsack and in blue jeans. But again I was part of the rucksack revolution there was some grace there. You could put it that way. And confidence as well because I thought of myself as a poet. That was part of it. I was going for that, to have experiences to make the work. — Anne Waldman

On Sunday morning I put on jeans, changed into a denim dress, then back into jeans again, feeling stupid. I can get into a mood where I annoy myself to no end. At the moment when I got completely fed up and stopped caring, I had on jeans and a white cotton shirt and silver earrings, so that's what I wore. And yes, I'll admit it, nice underwear. — Barbara Kingsolver

The whole right side of his face was smashed in, concave forehead and crushed cheekbone and one eye bugging precariously from a broken socket. He was purplish-black, and dirty white: Maggots seethed from every pore and crawled across him in excited wriggly piles, blowflies waving and blooming and wilting, the bits of bone they'd scraped clean glinting like tiny mosaic tiles. Scraps of jeans and a leather jacket clung to the sticky seething mess of his flesh. He was big, big shouldered, a good foot taller; chit-chitter, he went, even standing still. — Joan Frances Turner

I'm going out with him again tomorrow night," Emilie said after they'd finished eating. "He lives up in Baltimore, so we're going to meet after I'm done at the clinic."
"What are your wearing?" Kelly asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin.
"Just ... " She shrugged and looked down at the white cardigan she wore over a pair of basic black slacks. "Work clothes".
Kelly's eyes went wide. "Oh, no. No, no. Hottie McHotterson deserves more than work clothes. Hottie deserves a little black dress or a pair of fuck-hot jeans and a slinky little top. And heel - sexy, tall heels." She arched an eyebrow. — Laura Kaye

Jonathan Green had a firm handshake, clear eyes, and a jawline not dissimilar to Dudley Do-Right's. He was in his early sixties, with graying hair, a beach-club tan, and a voice that was rich and comforting. A minister's voice. He wasn't a handsome man, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that put you at ease. Jonathan Green was reputed to be one of the top five criminal defense attorneys in America, with a success rate in high-profile criminal defense cases of one hundred percent. Like Elliot Truly, Jonathan Green was wearing an impeccably tailored blue Armani suit. So were the lesser attorneys. Maybe they got a bulk discount. I was wearing impeccably tailored black Gap jeans, a linen aloha shirt, and white Reebok sneakers. Green said, Did Elliot explain why we wanted to see you? — Robert Crais

Growing up in Oakland, we did things like white t-shirt, blue jeans and Nikes. That was my get down, how I was going to rock. And if you look at me right now, I'm pretty much black tee, blue jeans and some sneakers. — Marshawn Lynch

I wear black skinny-fit jeans - I can't get away from them. It's funny because I wore baggy jeans for ages, then one day my friend convinced me to try on a skinny pair and I thought they were great. — Shaun White

Oh, don't be afraid of dreams," a voice said right next to me. I looked over. Somehow, I wasn't surprised to find the homeless guy from the rail yard sitting in the shotgun seat. His jeans were so worn out they were almost white. His coat was ripped, with stuffing coming out. He looked kind of like a teddy bear that had been run over by a truck. "If it weren't for dreams," he said, "I wouldn't know half the things I know about the future. They're better than Olympus tabloids." He cleared his throat, then held up his hands dramatically: "Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff." "Apollo?" I guessed, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred." "A god named Fred?" "Eh, well ... Zeus insists on certain rules. Hands off, when there's a human quest. Even when something really major is wrong. But nobody messes with my baby sister. Nobody." "Can — Rick Riordan

This time she was in a beat-up denim jacket and jeans worn over an old, much-laundered, open-throated white shirt. — Anonymous

I hate short hair on men - the 'real' man is something I don't know. My dad was always playing with hairbands, making rings, while the women were wearing jeans, white T-shirts and Converse. That was the uniform at home. — Lou Doillon

Mom," Nathan called to her.
Daisy pulled her gaze from the tent and the fleeting glimpse of Jack's bare back, the smooth planes and indent of his spine, the sliver of the white elastic just above the blue waistband of his jeans ... "Hmm?"
"What's a faaar ant?" he asked just above a whisper.
"Fire." She chuckled and shook her head. "Fire ant. They have a nasty bite that burns."
Nathan smiled. "Well, why didn't he just say fire?"
"He thinks he did. — Rachel Gibson

Larry had brought me blue jeans, a red polo shirt, jogging socks, my white Nikes, an extra cross from my suitcase, the silver knives, the Firestar complete with inner pants holster, and the Browning and its shoulder holster. He'd forgotten a bra, but hey, except for that it was perfect. — Laurell K. Hamilton

'Princess' is a good word, as is 'girlish', 'pixie-like' and all these other things. I personally find it a bit boring, it's all been done before. The amount of times you read reviews of bands and it's an all-girl four-piece, and they talk about what the women are wearing ... you'll never read a review that's like: "Male singer Thom Yorke, who was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans ... " You would never read that about a man. — Lauren Mayberry

Cambodian dust whipped up in the wind and stuck to my clothes like clay. I put a hand between my face and the sun and blinked Phnom Penn dust from my tired eyes. One idea, drink, beamed light in all directions across my dark consciousness.
A slim lady walked toward me with a big smile and a bigger head. Her left hand rested on her waggling hips and her right hand rose above her head, limp-wristed, like she'd just thrown a winning ball toward a basket and was leaving her hand in the shot position. The lady walking toward me was a man. At least that much was clear, but the nature or our relationship was still a fog to me. She wore blue jeans and a white top accentuating her breasts, but her Adam's apple and cow sized hands revealed more in daylight than she could hide at night. — Craig Stone

It flopped into my leg, leaving a vile, dark smear of disgusting on my jeans. Brilliant. — Kiersten White

I think a lot of people know me for just wearing cut-off denim shorts, an oversized white T-shirt with a pair of high-heels. I usually do wear basic stuff. Jeans and a white T is my go-to look. — Erin Wasson

Confidence is everything. Confidence is what makes that simple white tee and jeans look good. — Ciara