Jeremy Lucido Has Great Jeans. The Kind You Slip Into Once and Can Never Quite Forget...

Stefan Pinto
Aug 13
2 min read

Updated: Sep 4

... like an affair you swore would only happen once.

Jeremy Lucido, photographed by Stefan Pinto, stands confidently in downtown Los Angeles wearing a red-and-black plaid shirt and blue jeans, shot from a low angle against a backdrop of towering city skyscrapers at dusk.

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Great jeans are something everyone notices, covets and maybe shouldn’t touch. An affair is rarely about the person; — it’s about the fit. The thrill of slipping into something that isn’t yours, the way an unfamiliar silhouette drapes across your days.

Brendan Patrick stands shirtless in a dimly lit parking garage, facing Jeremy Lucido, who is seated on a silver Honda Shadow motorcycle wearing a denim shirt and jeans, both men locked in a tense, cinematic stare under dramatic lighting. Photo by Stefan Pinto.

It’s slipping into a vintage moto jacket that smells of someone else’s cologne. It’s that heady moment when the world collapses into denim thighs, whispered zippers, and a silhouette that feels illicit. It’s the difference between a bespoke blazer and an off-the-rack jacket: one carries your shape, the other carries your secret.

Jeremy Lucido, wearing a red-and-black plaid shirt and blue jeans, stands in downtown Los Angeles rolling up his sleeve, illuminated dramatically against a backdrop of tall buildings, street art, and a passing Metro Silver Line bus. Photo by Stefan Pinto

Affairs are stitched in cashmere cardigans left on the back of a chair, in silk scarves tied too loosely, in denim jackets that smell like the other side of town. They’re as much about texture as they are about touch.

Parody Diesel jeans advertisement featuring Jeremy Lucido on a motorcycle in a dimly lit parking garage, wearing a denim jacket and jeans. The bold headline reads “Why Is This Man Parked Here Instead of in Your Driveway?” with a subhead promoting “the kind of denim you don’t fold — you peel.” Photo by Stefan Pinto

Because the real luxury isn’t ownership — it’s access. It’s the whispered exchange in the fitting room, the champagne-fueled midnight unbuttoning, the glossy finish of patent leather against bare skin.

Jeremy Lucido sits on a silver Honda Shadow motorcycle in a dimly lit parking garage, wearing a denim shirt, jeans, and fingerless gloves, while shirtless model Brendan Patrick stands nearby looking down, both framed in dramatic lighting. Photo by Stefan Pinto.

It’s an accessory you don’t wear to the office but can’t stop thinking about during the Monday meeting. And like any limited-edition drop, the beauty lies in knowing it won’t last forever.

Jeremy Lucido wears a red-and-black plaid shirt and jeans stands in a loft with brick walls, facing a full-length mirror where his reflection is visible alongside the photographer, Stefan Pinto, whose reflection is also captured mid-shot. Sunlight streams through large windows, casting light across the hardwood floor. Photo by Stefan Pinto.

That’s the thing about couture temptation: you don’t keep it. You collect the memory, archive it, and wait for the next season.

The best affairs are like the best jeans — they don’t fit everyone, but when they fit you, they’re impossible to forget.

Black-and-white close-up portrait of model Jeremy Lucido, photographed by Stefan Pinto. The image features dramatic side lighting with a subtle red gradient overlay, emphasizing his wet-textured hair, intense gaze, and neatly groomed beard. A tattoo is visible on his neck, and he wears a textured open sweater with a chain necklace.

They mold to you over time, taking on the shape of your habits, your secrets, your late-night escapes.

Jeremy Lucido stands barefoot in a loft with brick walls, wearing a dark denim shirt and jeans, facing the camera with sunlight streaming through large windows behind him. In the mirror to his left, a bald man in blue underwear is visible from the back, adding an unexpected element to the scene. Photo by Stefan Pinto.

Raw denim doesn’t lie; it remembers every crease, every bend, every place you’ve been. So does the person you shouldn’t be texting at midnight.

Interior scene featuring Stefan Pinto and Jeremy Lucido in an eclectic, art-filled living room. On the left, Stefan Pinto stands nude with a red “CENSORED” label over his pelvis, looking down at his phone. On the right, Jeremy Lucido sits on a leather armchair wearing a blue polka-dot shirt and no pants, also covered with a red “CENSORED” label. The background includes vibrant pop art paintings, framed posters, and decorative lamps. Photo by Stefan Pinto.

There’s a reason both feel dangerous in public and essential in private. And like any perfect pair, an affair is never truly off the rack. It’s custom, even if no one will admit it. You choose it for the way it makes you feel — taller, leaner, more alive than the life you had before you slipped it on.

Photographer Jeremy Lucido, wearing a red-and-black plaid shirt and jeans, takes a photo of nude model Brendan Patrick in a loft studio with brick walls, studio lighting, and clothing racks in the background. A glass water carafe sits on a wooden table in the foreground. Photo by Stefan Pinto.

You tell yourself you’ll keep it for a season, maybe two, before the threads wear thin. But deep down, you know: there’s no such thing as “just jeans” once they’ve been tailored to your sin.

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Jeremy Lucido is the creator of Starrfuckermag

Jeremy Lucido lies on a bed with his head resting on the bare chest of a man wearing sunglasses, surrounded by multiple copies of Starrfucker magazine featuring a shirtless man on the cover. Jeremy holds an open copy of the magazine while looking directly at the camera, lit by a bright spotlight overhead. Photo by Stefan Pinto.