Water from rocks? Peasant vests? Ankle warmers? We must be passing into the Age of Derelictius, when once every 15 years, Italian Fashion crosses the astral projection of American Homelessness.
Yeah bro, we’re opening this new paleo sushi spot, serving sides of raw antelope that you eat using vintage wooden skis as chopsticks. We just wanted to create a space for real, honest food food in SoHo.
If you already look a lot like everyone’s favorite critter crushing Steinbeck character, you might want to think twice about dressing like him, too.
What’s the preferred method for applying dirt like makeup these days? Brush? Broom? Powder puff? Bowl of mud to the face? It’s gotta be hard to get it just so.
Hoof! Easy there, Sweeney Todd. I don’t care how hot your new bourbon-slinging barber shop is, I’m not getting anywhere near you when a straight blade is within arm’s reach.
For dudes like this you can pretty much assume there’s an extra name per piece of rustic flair: Tatum + (cap)Whitney + (leather bag)Alabaster + (tie)Skipford + (v-neck)Northmore + (askew belt)Pemberton + (vintage bike)IV.
Odds that this guy used hand sanitizer before and after touching this borrowed chainsaw? Pretty good.
“Hey bro, do you know where I can catch an L train around here?”
Nope, I can definitely still smell the nature over my cologne. Bletch!
This looks like one of those mornings when you wake up after a long night of partying, and instead of being as hungover as you should be, you feel fine. So you get your shit together like you’re going to make the most of the day, like it was gifted back to you by some benevolent god who really does love you — but then you get five minutes into a beach trip or a hike and you start to feel exactly. like. this.
