Dressing for Success

I was washing my old Volvo when I spilled some battery acid on my jeans.

After hosing them off I threw them in the washing machine.  That got rid of the acid but there was a hole about the size of iPhone in the seat.

I stopped at a LA’s men’s store.

The clerks all wore black.  They were tall and skinny and rather elegant.  They looked like they had stepped off the cover of Vanity Fair —  the Millennial Leaders edition.

I asked a sales gal if they carried patches.

“Like band-aids that stop you from smoking?” she said.  “Gawd no. Like this is a high-end boutique like destination where future leaders of America and the world like buy in-shit.”

“I want to repair a hole in my jeans.” I showed her my old jeans.

She tossed me a look that made me think she was getting ready for a bulimia break “We don’t sew shit up.  We like sell it.  Get it?”

She hurled my jeans into a waste basket, took me by my ear and lead me over to a wall of jeans.  They ranged in price from $99 to $4,999.99.

The most expensive styles were re-made from old pants that miners from the California Gold Rush had died in,

“Those jeans look like rags,” I said.

“We pride ourselves in offering like, actually, the most up-to-date styles.”

I retrieved my jeans with the acid hole, ducked into a changing room and slipped them on. With my ass hanging out of my jeans,  I left the store.

I was a part of the fashion elite.  It would be only a matter of hours before Vanity Fair called.







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