I did a double take last night. While enjoying the sounds of Sugar Hill Gang at an outdoor concert in Manhattan, I saw someone wearing a bullet-proof vest over a t-shirt. It was navy blue with a white star on the back. Is it real, I wondered. Is this guy so bad-ass that he's bold enough to make a public appearance, yet smart enough to protect himself from the dangerous people he associates with?
Or it it FASHION?
Ever since I had my son a year and a half ago, I have not been able to shed those last few (well, more than just a few) pounds. Not that I care what the numbers are, I would just like to be able to wear some of my pre-pregnancy pants. Maybe one day I will.
Keeping T-Shirts in the Moment, an article in today's New York Times profiles the mini companies who make and sell limited edition t-shirts to hipsters (usually on-line). The article profiles several entrepreneurs, from unknown artists who use t-shirts as a blank canvas for their work to frustrated graphic designers longing to restore authenticity to a t-shirt market polluted by fake vintage designs. And I agree, long live indie t-shirts... until I read about the Hollywood actresses who started the company Just Dumped Inc.
Dearest readers of GUTSY,
I have a confession of sorts to make. A tremendous burden has been handed down to me from my father (and I am sure his father et cetera). Each and every day I am forced to confront potential public embarrassment because of this weight on my shoulders. You see, I have inherited the genetic condition knowns as Zippasdown. What are the symptoms? A chronic and persistent unzipped pants fly.
Last Saturday I spent most of the day in NYC just walking around. While I was walking around I started to notice people wearing similar clothing. At first I thought I was mistaken but as the day progressed I kept seeing people dressed in the same style. I quickly started to make mental notes and kicked myself for not bringing my camera. I'll try to break it down into categories.
Before today, I wasn't familiar with the sensation of pasta sauce soaking through my pants.
World seen through boxer shorts that I thought had reached the end of their life.