Then the shop boy at the butcher stall grinned and said, "Nice shirt."
I looked down.
***This is a reminder of how my general awesomeness translates to really awesome attire. You may glance in awe and cower at the feet of my awesome shoes. That is all.***
Today, while on the streets I walked past a lady who was wearing, what I call, MC Hammer pants.
Yeap. Right down to the unnecessary voluminous hips to the tapered ankles. I saw it once in a store but I didn't think anyone would actually buy into it. I get that there's been some weird '80s revival going on in the fashion world but that's not even the glamorous part of 80s fashion! Rayban aviators, no problemo. The flouro colours, if I have to. But MC-Hammer-pants?! Jesus. Why don't you just throw in shoulder pads while you're scarring my vision and life?
Another thing that I don't get:
To the two guys I saw walking down Swanston Street yesterday: Actually, all guys of Melbourne. Victoria. Australia. The World. If John Rhys-Meyers doesn't look good in it, chances are, you're not going to either.
The model at American Apparel looks seminally better but that's because of the second layer and the fact that he looks like the bastard child of Seth Green and Breckin Meyer, who I both love unabashedly. Stick to skinny ties, fitted jeans and folded three quarter button down shirts, alright? Alternatively wear vintage tees or check-ed Western shirts. You'll thank me later when the trend passes and there isn't photographic evidence of you indulging in such fashion atrocities.