I've never taken myself or my denim very seriously, as anyone who's ever seen me in a pair of white jeans will know.

My attitude is if the jeans fit, they fit. If they don't, roll up the trouser legs, wear a belt or try to lose some weight. If all else fails, stop borrowing clothes from the missus.

Others take a more pernickety approach to their denim. I chatted once with a former soccer casual who went into great detail about how he liked the leg of his jeans to sit on his trainers and what that required in terms of labels and cuts and types of footwear. This wasn't just on matchdays either - taking the dog out required the same level of preparation.

Like soccer casuals, the Japanese take their denim very seriously indeed. In part, that's because of their enduring fascination with American culture. But mostly it's because they make the best denim in the world thanks to a combination of lovingly cared-for vintage looms, the use of natural dyes and an artisanal culture which had already made their textile industry famous centuries before James Dean came along and started the craze for blue jeans.

An illustration of how serious the Japanese are about denim comes with a new range called Zoo Jeans, whose designers have taken a wild approach to distressing their denim.

Now normally you'd get some low-paid workers, give them a sandblaster and some sharp tools, hope your insurance covers the loss of eyes/fingers and let them go to work to get that lived-in appearance. The people at Zoo Jeans did their distressing differently, however: they wrapped lengths of selvedge denim around tyres and footballs and threw them into the lion enclosure at Kamine Zoo, on the Pacific coast. They did the same in the tiger and bear enclosures and the jeans made from the fabric were then made into jeans. Only a few pairs were produced, with names like L1, T1, B1 and so on, to denote which animal's teeth and claws made the holes.

Gimmicky? Yes. And air-conditioned into the bargain. But if you prefer your jeans unripped, designed by humans rather than captive animals and in that classic shade of dark blue, then Japan's more traditional denim designers have the strides for you too.

Most British denim lovers are familiar with Evisu jeans and their hand-painted seagull symbol. But purists might prefer Big John, Japan's first homegrown label, or Momotaro's Gold Label jeans. These are handmade from denim which is handwoven on looms that once produced silk for kimonos. They have buttons made from real silver, come lined with silk and each pair can take up to a year to make. They're finished off by being dunked in sea water. How's that for service?

And the price? Well, if you can actually get hold of a pair they'll set you back over a grand. I can see how easy it would be to disappear down the denim rabbit hole, but you'd need to be as mad as the proverbial hatter to pay that much. They're just jeans, after all.