Can you wear boyfriend jeans after age 30? That’s a question I asked myself recently. The answer? Maybe if I had a boyfriend to borrow them from—my husband’s jeans are a little tight.

I think the idea is that your boyfriend jeans are loose and broken down so you can kind of wrap them around your ankles in that devil-may-care, I-can-rock-anything-with-high-heels kind of attitude.

I tried the husband jeans. They were a little snug across the derriere. Maybe devil-may-care comes with slightly longer legs and significantly less ass. Or maybe I just need a fatter husband.

But I like the trend of boyfriend jeans. It’s recycling in action—if you do it properly. And this reducing and reusing stuff is important when it comes to clothes, if you consider that textiles account for nearly four million tons of solid waste every year, or four percent of the content of our landfills.

Back in the day, we used to scour vintage clothing stores to score the perfect pair of broken-in Levi’s 501s. Now, we pay top-dollar for manufacturers to dump chemicals into washes that eat away at the denim until it rips and tears just like life used to do. (Not to mention the two-thirds of pesticides that went into the cotton that made that fabric in the first place.)

However, with a little know-how and ingenuity (not to mention significantly less cash), you can still score a genuine, planet-saving pair of broken-in jeans. Here’s how:

First off, get a measuring tape and take down the number that corresponds to your hips, not your waist. That’s the size you’re going to look for. Forget about the length—as long as you’re rolling, it doesn’t matter. 

Now hit the shops—and forget the big chains like Wasteland. You want jeans that are soft from years of wear, preferably a pair that comes with the indent of a tin of chaw in the pocket. Try the Salvation Army or your local no-name resale where someone’s grandpa may have deposited a treasure trove of damaged denim that won’t cost you an arm or a leg.

Take some time to filter through the racks and try on anything that looks like it might fit—no matter what it says on the label. (They lie.) Use your measuring tape if you can’t eyeball your size.

Got a pair? Great! Wash before you wear, then rock them loose—with the waistband at your hips—or cinch them up like Madonna in “Desparately Seeking Susan,” with the classic fold-and-wrap peg at the ankle. Add a pair of eco-stilettos and some attitude and you’re ready to go.

Boyfriend optional.