Why Does Your Jeans Pocket Have That Stupid Little Pocket?

You know that stupid little pocket inside the right front pocket of your jeans? The one that’s too small for your phone, too awkward for your hand and somehow still here after more than 150 years? Most of us have probably owned dozens of pairs with one, yet almost nobody stops to ask why it’s there. The answer is a lot more interesting than “because that’s where you put your change.”

Levi Strauss and Jacob Davis included the little watch pocket in their original 1873 design because pocket watches needed a secure place to ride around. Back then, your most important piece of personal technology wasn’t a smartphone. It was a pocket watch, usually attached to a chain and tucked into that little pouch while you worked. The jeans were built as tough workwear, with copper rivets reinforcing the pockets and other areas that took a beating.

Then the world changed. Wristwatches became common, followed by digital watches, phones and devices that can practically run your life. The pocket watch disappeared, but its little home survived. Nobody needed the pocket anymore, yet removing it would somehow make the jeans look wrong. It had become part of the classic design, a tiny leftover from another era that somehow outlived the technology it was created to protect.

Naturally, we found other things to put in it. Coins, matches, guitar picks, tickets, lighters and emergency cash all found their way into that little piece of denim. Today it might hold wireless earbuds or some other tiny gadget. The pocket adapted because apparently denim refuses to retire.

And then there is the women’s pocket problem. Comedian Kelsey Cook has joked about the absurdity of women’s jeans pockets, where you can sometimes get only the tips of your fingers inside while men’s jeans seem to have enough room for a wallet, keys and half a sandwich. It’s the ultimate pocket paradox: technically it’s there, but if you can’t actually put anything useful inside, what’s the point? A pocket shouldn’t be a tiny denim apartment for your fingertips.

Here’s another wrinkle. People often call the little watch pocket the “fifth pocket,” but technically that’s wrong. The original 1873 jeans had two front pockets, the watch pocket and one back pocket. Levi Strauss & Co. added the second back pocket in 1901, making that the actual fifth pocket.

Then Levi’s helped confuse everybody. In a 1996 501 commercial called “Pool Boy,” the company referred to the watch pocket as the “fifth pocket.” The commercial was popular, the phrase stuck and suddenly the wrong pocket had the right nickname. Levi Strauss & Co. now acknowledges the historical mistake. After more than a century, a television commercial managed to give a little piece of denim the wrong job title.

But wait, it gets better. The watch pocket also picked up the much cheekier nickname “condom pocket.” Levi Strauss & Co. acknowledges the term among the various names associated with the pocket. Apparently, after decades of protecting pocket watches, this little piece of denim found itself associated with protecting something else. That’s quite the career change. It went from keeping track of the time to potentially helping you avoid making a baby.

From a timekeeper to something that, nine months later, might get you into a whole different kind of trouble, this little pocket has had one hell of a career. There is one catch: a jeans pocket isn’t exactly a luxury hotel for condoms. The CDC advises keeping condoms away from excessive heat and friction because those conditions can damage them. So while the pocket might be discreet, it isn’t necessarily the ideal long-term storage locker for your love life.

Who knew a pair of jeans could help you keep track of time, carry your loose change and, if the condom-pocket reputation is to be believed, help prevent you from creating new genes? That’s one hell of a career for a little piece of denim. Something can sit right in front of us for 150 years, survive the technology it was designed for and pick up a few new jobs along the way, yet we never stop to ask the simplest question: Why the hell is that there?

Tony M.

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