Christian Grey & His Red Room Jeans: A 'Fifty Shades' Love Affair That I Will Never Entirely Comprehend

I can be an adult and admit that I have read the first Fifty Shades of Grey book and two chapters of the sequel (I will however present the excuse that it was really truly for work, in case any relatives are reading this and dropping their jaws). But despite having read all about Anastasia "Holy Cow" Steele and her dominant inamorato, I still can't figure out why the hell Christian insists on wearing ripped up, ill-fitting jeans with no shoes on when he does the BDSM nasty and I fear none of us will ever truly understand Christian and his "sexy" red room jeans.

For the uninitiated (see: everyone who never hid Fifty Shades inside a copy of War & Peace in order to read the steamy book on the subway), the emphasis placed on the reveal of Jamie Dornan in jeans in his Red Room of Pain might seem a little odd. Sure, the dude is wearing jeans, but at this point we've seen Dakota Johnson's nipples like three and a half times and I'm of the mindset that homeboy should just ditch the jeans and opt for his birthday suit (he is about to have sex and equality is a thing I care about, even in the sub/dom dynamic — OK, Fifty Shades?). Of course, for fans of E.L. James' saucy series, these jeans are the epitome of Mr. Laters Baby's sexual appeal. When he puts on those jeans, it's business time — and Ana's BFF, Miss Inner Goddess, sure knows it:

I glance down quickly, staring at my hands, positioned with care on my spread thighs. Placing something on the large chest beside the door, he strolls casually toward the bed. I indulge myself in a quick glimpse at him, and my heart almost lurches to a stop. He’s naked except for those soft ripped jeans, top button casually undone. Jeez, he looks so freaking hot. My subconscious is frantically fanning herself, and my inner goddess is swaying and writhing to some primal carnal rhythm. She’s so ready. I lick my lips instinctively.

Casually ignoring the fact that the term "naked" is used here when Christian is, in fact, cruelly not naked, I can see why these jeans are so memorable: This is when Ana first gets really into the whole submissive thing. To Ana (and readers) those jeans are the equivalent of the squeaky ceiling fan I was looking at the time I lost my virginity: she'll never forget 'em.

But when it comes to why this bajillionaire titan of industry insists on dressing like a half-assed Abercrombie & Fitch ad campaign when he feels takes to sexily tying up his girlfriend, I'm at a loss. The book doesn't really offer an explanation for this, but I supposed the subtext is that he's most himself when he's doing the dom thing and his version of Ana's inner goddess (let's call it his inner non-denominational deity) really loves the feeling of air fluttering through a few strategically distressed zones of a deliberately sloppy pair of jean pants.

Whatever the reasoning behind his sexy time fashion choices (he needs his pants to reflect his tortured soul, yeah?), it seems to work for Ana. And when it comes to pre-sex pants isn't that what really matters?

"Good evening, Mrs. Grey," Christian says softly. He's standing by the piano, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, and jeans... those jeans — the ones he wore in the playroom. Oh my. They are over washed pale-blue denim, snug, ripped at the knee and hot. He saunters over to me, his feet bare, the top button of the jeans undone, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine. "Good to have you home. I've been waiting for you."

OK, Christian. You can keep your damn jeans.

Images: Universal Pictures (screengrab) (2)