Not All Jeans Are Equal

Why the Sugar Cane 1947 is more than just a reproduction—it’s a reminder of how jeans were meant to be made.

The pair of jeans you wear every day? There’s more to them than you think.

Clothes have a lot to teach us, not just about style, but about history as a whole.

Every rivet, belt loop, button, and stitch tells a story: of changing workplaces, shifting social norms, and evolving human habits.

My latest addition, picked up in Japan, is the Sugar Cane 1947. To me, they represent everything great about selvedge denim. They’re not just a remake; they’re a reminder. A reminder of how workwear evolved, and how sometimes the best bits are worth keeping.

Sugar Cane hasn’t reproduced these jeans so we can all play dress-up and pretend it’s 1947 again. They’ve done it to honour why these jeans were made in the first place.

The 1947s are based on the original Levi’s 501, a pair we all know even if we’ve never owned them. But over time, the 501 has changed. It’s become cheaper to make. It’s been reworked to suit fast fashion and broader appeal. That’s not always a good thing.

Sure, a cheaper pair of jeans is more affordable, but that doesn’t mean they’re better. They don’t last as long. They’re often made with less care, less ethics, and less attention to detail. I could go on for hours, but I won’t.

Instead, I want to focus on the Sugar Cane 1947s and a few reasons why I think they’re worth considering, whether you’re into jeans or not.

Sugar Cane is a denim brand from Toyo Enterprises, a Japanese company that got its start in the mid-60s supplying clothes and gear for U.S. military bases stationed in Japan. After the Vietnam War, Toyo shifted its focus to producing clothing for the Japanese market, and that’s when Sugar Cane came to life.

Toyo are also behind a few other well-known labels: Buzz Rickson’s, which focuses on military reproduction; Sun Surf, known for vintage-style Hawaiian shirts; and Mister Freedom, a long-time collaboration with Christophe Loiron in LA.

One thing I really love about Sugar Cane is how you can almost track denim history through the different models they make. Each one reflects a certain era.

Take the 1955, for example. It’s based on a mid-50s version of the Levi’s 501, a time when the silhouette started to change. The leg has a taper as opposed to it being straight, and instead of a button fly, it’s got a zip.

Funnily enough, when Levi’s started making 501s for the East Coast market, they added a zip fly because they thought it’d suit the more ‘refined’ Ivy League crowd. More polished, more practical. But you still had the die-hards who preferred the button fly. A bit of that “I’ve been into Levi’s longer than you” energy.

And to be fair, they’ve got a point.

Like many, I’d argue a button fly is best.

It’s sturdier. No risk of a broken zip, no snagging, and it holds its shape longer. With wear, the fly area forms natural creases and fades that you just don’t get with a zip. It’s also easier to repair if something goes wrong.

And while we’re on the subject of details, ever wonder why jeans are built the way they are? Sugar Cane don’t just throw these features on for nostalgia’s sake. Each element has a reason for being there.

The rivets — those little copper buttons — were first used in 1873 by a tailor named Jacob Davis. He added them to work trousers to stop the seams tearing. Without them, miners would’ve destroyed their jeans within weeks.

The coin pocket was originally made for a pocket watch. It’s still called a watch pocket by most tailors, even though no one’s carried one in years.

The yoke is that V-shaped panel at the back. It gives the jeans their shape. Without it, they’d fit like a potato sack.

I found that at first, the yoke on my Sugar Cane 1947s felt a bit loose and unfitted, almost like it was waiting to find its place. But after a soak in the bath and throwing them on, they moulded perfectly to my shape. If that’s not an era-specific detail, I don’t know what is.

Selvedge ID, that neat edge on premium denim, comes from old shuttle looms. In the U.S., it was mostly white with a red line. Japanese mills took that and ran with it, giving us every colour variation under the sun.

Chain stitch hems, often done on vintage Union Specials, rope and pucker with wear. Originally, they were just a strong way to finish the leg.

Roping is one of those funny denim details. Technically a fault, but exactly what people chase now. You see it most around the hems, where the stitching causes the denim to twist slightly and create that wavy, rope-like fade as they wear in.

Originally, this happened because of the way jeans were chain stitched on old Union Special machines. The tension wasn’t always perfect, and the feed wasn’t totally even, so the fabric would pucker and twist over time. Brands weren’t aiming for it. It just happened.

But now? If you’re into denim, you’re probably hoping for it. That uneven fade around the hem has become a mark of quality, almost a badge that says your jeans were made the old way.

It’s one of those beautiful accidents where the mistake became the feature.

Hidden rivets, tucked behind the back pockets on early Levi’s, were removed in the ’50s because they scratched chairs. These days, if your jeans have them, it’s usually a nod to proper reproduction.

Arcuates are the curved stitching on the back pockets. Levi’s trademarked their version in 1943, but almost every denim brand now has their own take. Like early pairs of Levi’s, the ‘47s don’t have them, a subtle detail to those in the know.

Thing is, all these details started out as practical. They weren’t meant to look cool. That part came later.

Because of the cut, the Sugar Cane 1947 is easily one of the most versatile pairs of jeans I’ve come across. The shape just works. It suits pretty much any body type. The rise is higher, but thanks to the generous top block, it’s actually really comfortable. You’re not squeezed in or restricted. They sit well, move well, and somehow manage to feel broken-in before they are.