Hope for the hopeless in fashion

Katiedid Langrock on

"What do you think about this?" she said to me, holding up a checkered midriff shirt.

"For me or a doll?"

The sales clerk laughed. And she was genuinely adorable. "For you!"

"Yea-a-a-a-h, I'm pretty sure my midriff days are over," I said.

"Really?" She asked. "Do they end?"

See? What'd I tell you? Adorable.

"It's pretty cool-looking," she said in a singsong manner, as if trying to seduce me into a midriff purchase. Oh, sweet child, if only you knew, no one could seduce me into a midriff purchase. Jason Momoa couldn't seduce me into a midriff purchase. (Though I wouldn't object to seeing him try.)

"It's totally cool-looking," I agreed. "But I'm not looking for this cool. I'm looking for adult-cool -- ideally adult-business-cool."

She looked at me as if I just told her Homo sapiens evolved from pancakes. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to make sense of what I had just said.

"I'm sure it's a thing. Adult-business-cool is not an oxymoron."


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