Rico Sleeveless.
Summer does not officially begin until June 21st, but the season of DIY tank tops is already upon us. Or, me. I got my shears out and my derringers on display. T shirts fear me, boiz want to be – inside of me.
Well, most. Er, a lot. Um, okay, some. SOME.
Not the bouncer at The Woods in Hollywood, though. No. He was not impressed with my sleevelessness, Saturday night.
Luckily, he allowed my friend Alexis to lend me her coat. Luckily for him. She was about to shriek, “HOMOPHOBIA!” and bust his skull open with a verbal caning if he denied me entry, completely.
An actual cane would have gone well with my newly transformed ensemble. Plush, white, and fur-like – I looked like a veritable P.I.M.P with her mid length threads draped over the back of my shoulders.
“Hi. I’m sorry, but I just have to touch your jacket,” more than three people stroked my ego and my back.
I made sure to direct the compliments towards Alexis. My gratitude, as well. For salvaging our plans and, most importantly, my confidence. I shuffled into the bar feeling a tad embarrassed. I left with the reminder that fly fashion only encourages swagger.
A dud in designer duds is still a dud. Charisma is charisma, no matter how flashy the fabric.
its true. i would have gone ape-shit.