Qtip

Descending into the original Slash Jeans, a store not much bigger than a walk-in closet, is like walking into a jeans cavern, with Levi’s stacked to the ceiling, piles against piles, jeans for walls, jeans on the floor. “It may look like chaos, but it’s very organized chaos,” says buyer and operations manager Julie Harleman.

It’s not much of a place for browsing, but the regulars know that’s not the point: Slash Jeans is where owner Carla Bell and her cohorts will try to outfit you with the perfect pair of jeans.

“Everybody is really well trained who works here, so we just look at everybody who comes in and know what size they are,” Bell says. “And we can tell what style they’re wearing. I usually give people what they have on, no matter what they say. We’re mostly known for looking at people and giving them their jeans.”

This year, Slash celebrates 30 years in business, and while Bell insists that she just gives the customer what they’re wearing, her decades of expertise show clearly. For example, when I explained to her that my Levi’s 518 boot-cut fit me perfectly until I sit down – and then they gape quite embarrassingly in the back – she quickly tells me, “Well, that’s because you need the Levi’s 528 curvy cut. They have a higher back, smaller waistband and more room in the hips.”

“That’s what we do,” Bell says, comparing her work to a doctor’s appointment, where the patient comes in, explains his or her denim problems, then gets diagnosed. “We all learn from Carla,” says Harleman, who has worked at Slash seven years. “She’s got all the secrets. When you work with her, she can’t really tell you how to do it, but when you work with her long enough, you either get it or you don’t. And you learn how to nail people and their sizes.”

As jeans are such a huge part of the American culture – and the Berkeley counterculture – finding a pair that fit right and look right can be an emotional experience.

When you work in the store all day every day selling jeans to people, you realize how much people’s perception, their view of themselves, is so skewed, Harleman says. “In some ways, you kind of become their therapist. You have to teach them: ‘Your body is not as bad as you think it is.’ They’ll come in and tell you exactly what they think. People trust you, and tell you all kinds of stuff about themselves.”

In 1979, Bell started the store with a huge collection of vintage jeans she had amassed with her sister – selling them for $2.65. Now the used jeans run $25-$35 and new jeans range from $45-$95. To honor Bell’s retail longevity, Harleman put together an anniversary party at the Uptown club for Sunday, featuring young garage rock bands – the Pets, Top Ten, the Dashing Suns – mostly made up of devoted customers.

The party will not only honor Slash but also other local businesses weathering the rough economy, Harleman says. “We’ve been around 30 years; we hope they can be around 30 years, too.” The $5 admission comes with a raffle ticket for two three-speed cruiser bikes from Manifesto in Oakland, as well as prizes from Down At Lulu’s, Pretty Penny, Issues newsstand and La Mediterranee – and the proceeds of the raffle will go to the Alameda County Community Food Bank.

Three years ago, Slash Jeans opened up its upstairs annex, which looks more like a regular boutique with fedoras, handbags and silk-screened T-shirts for sale, all by local designers. But jeans are still primarily the focus. Around 5 p.m., a swarm of customers appear upstairs, each looking a little needy.

A guy in loose-fitting skinny jeans implores Bell, “I’m looking for jeans. I don’t know what I want. I guess I pretty much want what I have on.”

Bell explains, “The customers really appreciate you, because all these companies have made buying jeans really confusing. But we understand and explain it to you. People are really grateful for that.”