Jeans Take Over

It was 1870 in Nevada. Thousands of men were in the hills, all looking for gold and silver.

Finding just one shiny piece could make you rich. But searching for gold and silver was hard work. All day long, the workers trudged through narrow tunnels and bent over their shovels. As they moved the dirt, many men faced an annoying problem: They kept ripping their pants.

A tailor from Eastern Europe named Jacob Davis would help fix that. One day, a worker’s wife came to Davis and asked him to make her husband a stronger pair of pants. He looked at the round metal pins he used to make horse blankets. That gave Davis an idea. He attached the pins—called rivets—onto the pants where they most often ripped.

And it worked! The strong metal rivets held the fabric together. The new pants were much harder to rip. Soon, all the workers in the area wanted a pair. 

More than 150 years later, Davis’s riveted pants are still popular. In fact, you probably have a pair in your closet right now. You know them as jeans.

Jeans had existed long before Davis was born. For hundreds of years, workers in India, Italy, and France were wearing pants made of thick, coarse fabrics. One of these fabrics became known as denim.

When Europeans began moving to America in the 1500s, they brought denim with them. The cloth was perfect for work pants. It was strong but comfortable. To help hide dirt, the pants were often colored blue. 

But it wasn’t until the 1870s, when Davis invented his indestructible jeans, that most American workers wore the pants. Almost right away, the new jeans sold well. Davis asked the person who sold him fabric, Levi Strauss, to go into business with him. Over the next 60 years, their riveted jeans came to be worn by almost all American workers.  

So how did denim pants make their way into your life? It started in the 1930s. By then, Americans loved Western movies and their cowboy heroes. Many of the movie cowboys wore jeans.

Little kids began begging their parents for jeans to play cowboys. Rich people wore them to look like movie stars. 

“Denim companies realized, ‘Wow, there are a lot of people who want to wear jeans just for fun,’ ” says James Sullivan. He wrote a book on the history of jeans. 

By the 1950s, blue jeans had entered the fashion world. Rock star Elvis Presley danced and shimmied onstage in his jeans. Famous actors like James Dean wore them to play tough teens in movies. Many schools banned the pants because they thought troublemakers wore them. But that only made jeans seem cooler to young Americans.

Over the next couple of decades, jeans became more popular. Dozens of new denim companies were started to supply Americans’ jeans obsession.

Today, 96 percent of Americans own jeans. Maybe you even have a pair from Levi Strauss & Co., which is still the world’s biggest jeans company today.

Jacob Davis would be amazed to see how the pants have changed over the years. There were the fancy designer jeans of the 1970s. There were the baggy jeans worn by hip-hop stars in the 1990s. There were the skinny jeans of the 2010s. “Every generation finds a new way to wear jeans so that they feel like their own,” Sullivan explains. 

And that might be the secret to their long-lasting power. Jeans have been around for more than 150 years. They’re worn by almost every person in the country. But your favorite pair somehow feels like it was made just for you.

Today, about 95 percent of Americans own jeans. Maybe you even have a pair from Levi Strauss & Co. That’s still the world’s biggest jeans company today.

Jacob Davis would be amazed to see how the pants have changed over the years. There were the fancy designer jeans of the 1970s. There were the baggy jeans worn by hip-hop stars in the 1990s. There were the skinny jeans of the 2010s. “Every generation finds a new way to wear jeans so that they feel like their own,” Sullivan explains. 

And that might be jeans’ special power. Jeans have been around for more than 150 years. They’re worn by almost every person in the country. But your favorite pair somehow feels like it was made just for you.

It was a Sunday morning in Oregon in 1971. As Bill Bowerman and his wife, Barbara, made waffles, they chatted about a familiar topic: running shoes. 

Bowerman was a track coach at the University of Oregon. For years, he’d been making shoes for the runners on his team. But now he had a problem. 

Like many running tracks across the U.S., the dirt track at the university was being replaced with one made of rubber. At the time, running shoes had metal spikes on the bottom so runners wouldn’t slip. But those spikes tore the new tracks and slowed runners down. Bowerman needed to find a solution.

Suddenly, Barbara pulled a hot waffle out of the waffle maker—and something clicked in Bowerman’s brain. The pattern on the waffle maker was exactly what he had been looking for! The raised squares would keep a runner from slipping, but they wouldn’t tear up the track.

Bowerman snatched up the waffle maker and hurried off to his lab. Little did he know that he was about to change the future of sneakers forever. 

It was a Sunday morning in Oregon in the early 1970s. As Bill Bowerman and his wife made waffles, they talked about a familiar topic: running shoes. 

Bowerman was a university track coach. For years, he’d been making shoes for the runners on his team. But now he had a problem. 

The dirt track at the university was being replaced. The new one would be made of rubber. This was happening at many running tracks across the coutry. At the time, running shoes had metal spikes on the bottom so runners wouldn’t slip. But those spikes would ruin the new tracks and slow runners down. Bowerman needed to find a solution.

Suddenly, his wife pulled a hot waffle out of the waffle maker. Bowerman got an idea. The pattern on the waffle maker was exactly what he had been looking for! The raised squares would keep a runner from slipping, but they wouldn’t harm the track.

Bowerman grabbed the waffle maker and brought it to his lab. He was about to change the future of sneakers forever. 

Sneakers as we know them today came about in the 1970s with Bowerman’s invention. To make his shoes, Bowerman had helped start a company you’ve probably heard of: Nike. 

Nike began selling Bowerman’s “Waffle Trainers” in 1974. The shoes were a hit—and they led to a golden age of sneakers.

Many new styles soon appeared: blue Nikes, yellow Pumas, white Adidas. Yet these sneakers were mostly popular among serious fans of sports and fashion who lived in cities.

Then, in the 1980s, Nike created a shoe for basketball player Michael Jordan. Jordan was new to the NBA, but his skills had already wowed crowds. Few people could play like him—but they could wear his shoes. Nike sold half a million pairs of the new sneakers in one month.

Then there were hip-hop musicians, who wore sneakers in videos and onstage. One hip-hop group called Run-D.M.C. loved their Adidas sneakers so much that they wrote a song about them. In the mid-1980s, “My Adidas” became a hit. Sales of Adidas sneakers skyrocketed.

This kind of attention from famous athletes and musicians marked a turning point in America’s relationship with sneakers. What was once just a comfortable, practical shoe had become popular worldwide.

Today, people buy more than $85 billion worth of sneakers every year. There are hundreds of styles, colors, and brands. 

We strut down school hallways in our Nike Air Force 1s. We race across the playground in our Converse All Stars. The release of a new sneaker can be a big event, with crowds of sneaker collectors, or “sneakerheads,” camping out hours before stores open. 

So if you’re among the millions of sneaker lovers, you might want to say thank you to Bill Bowerman—and to waffles.

Today, people buy billions of dollars worth of sneakers every year. There are hundreds of styles, colors, and brands. 

We walk down school hallways in our Nike Air Force 1s. We run across the playground in our Converse All Stars. A new sneaker coming out can be a big event. Sneaker collectors, or “sneakerheads,” often camp out before stores open. 

So if you’re among the millions of sneaker lovers, you might want to say thank you to Bill Bowerman—and to waffles.