The roaring tube. I was stuck between a Viking and an ornamental twit, staring blankly at the floor trying hard to listen to my Ipod. All of a sudden, right between the Twisted Sisters and Nick Drake, I saw a beautiful face - a brooding melancholy young man, with a chiselled chin, broad shoulders and dreamy eyes- the epitome of manliness, right there, reading, in front of me. I transferred my gaze and stared blankly at him.
Bond Street Station. He got up.
Bond Street Station. He got up.
Swoon, Swoon…
Murder.
Murder.
Strapped in hermetically sealed trousers, his legs looked like a transplant from an emaciated elf. Two ridiculous twiglettes beneath a gigantic torso, lanky limbs vacuumed into oblivion by skinny jeans that censored everything on their way.Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you The Bumless Wonder!
His low-cut denim hung down a missing butt (which I would like to report), along spindly legs and all the way down to…a pair of pink converses.He got up and chirped away in Spanish, followed by a friend who looked like he had just fled the Merry Kingdom of Hobgoblins.
As if girls wearing skinny-jeans weren’t bad enough, with the raging competition between the Sausage Patty Society and the Distressed Matchstick Club. But men! And Spanish ones, to top it all! This experience has turned me into a magnanimous soul. To the British male fashion victims who roam all over the capital in their skinnies: You will survive the grotesque of these trousers.
After all, you almost invented Rock.
2 comments:
LOL!!! Absolute great story -- I hate the skinny trend, makes me feel like the "saucisson de Paris", todally...
But it cannot rival with how deeply I hate it on boys -- so awful when paired with the Aviators... Kill me already!
oh lord! In paris they are usually 15 year-old-bcbg's, they have a blond meche falling down on their face, and walk around foreign land (5th and 6th arondissement) feeling cool.
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