If I got this sweat for free, I reckon I’d be as excited as if someone just said we were going to Alton Towers tomorrow. Like not, fuckingjesuschrist excited. But still, reasonably pleased. Looking through the A/W drops on the regular etailers, it’s sometimes difficult to spot the killer, must cops. There’s so much stuff that looks like the stuff that came before it, like stuff you’ve already got. Beware the doppelhanger syndrome.
So, the only guy that refused to have his picture taken, was strutting about in Hood By Air. What does that say?
Anyways, it was the Protein Magazine launch party last week – it might have been Thursday. I dunno, I’m bad with times and locations, and amounts of stuff. And heats, how hot is a Fahrenheit? And weights, I have no idea what an ounce is, or a kilo. Is it a lot of fucking ham or not?
How much shit does a bro need to carry around? I’m thinking maybe a Macbook, some smokes, maybe a book, a pen, a phone? The makers of this thing seem to have different target. You know, the kind of bro that has to get somewhere quick while carrying a pair of watermelons. Or maybe it’s aimed at the baby stealing market? Or it’s just for transporting a fuck ton of rice to needy African families. You know, that hot-hot UN aid worker vibe – that no fucker is talking about right now.
If I could make a living posting pictures of me in shirts, scribbling about Japanese rucksacks I’m never going to buy and making jokes about doing a plip-plop in your pants, I totes would. I do, however, have a day gig, during which I make editorial produce which don’t feature pictures of me in shirts, don’t discuss Japanese luggage and don’t find involuntary excretion amusing. There is, however, occasionally overlap. Exhibit A: Virgin Holidays Unleashed.
I’m a fucking urban warrior me. All day every day… I’m ignoring the lame-ass Reiss sponsored posts in my social feed. I’m rocking multiple episodes of Vera in one sitting. I’m down Asda swagging the ‘rollbacks’ and the ‘price freezes’, loading up on 50p packs of Fox’s Jam and Cream. I’m living large brothermen. Multi-skilling, multi-platinum, multi-wearing. I copped this Albam popover and banged out two wears immediately. First with my patterned EG blaze, for semi-casual, engagement party vibing. And second, here, with shorts. It creates the kind of searing look that makes passing ladies have to hit-up a newsy for a Magnum Infinity, just to cool down. You feel me?
Films I like, with characters thinking about shit they want to buy. That’s pretty much it. I just thought of it. And I did it. I could suggest this is a commentary on consumerism’s ability to dominate our thinking, at the expense of all other emotion and reason. I could say that… Actually now I’ve thought of it, that’s what this is. You know how I just said this was, ‘films I like, with characters thinking about shit they want to buy’? It’s not that now. It’s the other thing.