thank you, paddington
So yes, friends and friends, I think I have finally broken the Marcs spell - Marcs is no longer my favourite clothing store and the Zen show will now be brought you by nrovocator and incu.
Today I actually went out to Paddington and shopped for the first time there - all I can say is, OMG.
Thank you, God, for anti-establishment boutiques that in spite of their elitism and pretensions do actually make a contribution to this world by making the most fucking amazing and comfortable stove pipe jeans that ever hugged my fat thighs (nrovocator).
Thank you, God, more still, for winter-before-spring discounts so I am able to join the fat-stripes fashion coup at $60 a pop for my polo shirts instead of $175 (incu).
I highly recommend my fellow Sydneysiders to make their way to Oxford St, Paddington before 1 Aug. (Phil, this is your best chance of recreating the golden glories of the gorgeous gay you enjoyed during the Danny era, lol)
But did you think I was just going to make a LJ post about stupid clothes? No! Today's shopping was therapy for me, for which now I shall relate the attending circumstances.
You see, precisely because I am not shallow, sleazy or stupid, I have always hated the Shift. But I was there last night, on a date with a boy. There are so many things wrong with that but nothing upset me more than this: I was at the Shift for a boy. I'm not even ever at the Shift for a friend, but I was there for a boy that I met for a second time. Boo Zen, boo! Anyway, to cut a long story short, we had a good time but he had other issues in his life that need to be worked through so he and I weren't to be.
I am not at all angry or upset at him. He's a decent guy and we had fun. But I am just pissed off at myself, my unprincipled willingness to make exceptions and concessions for anyone or anything my rather quick-tempered passion takes a fancy to.
Anyway, I'm going to stop this post here because my train of thought has been interrupted by a phone call. =)
Today I actually went out to Paddington and shopped for the first time there - all I can say is, OMG.
Thank you, God, for anti-establishment boutiques that in spite of their elitism and pretensions do actually make a contribution to this world by making the most fucking amazing and comfortable stove pipe jeans that ever hugged my fat thighs (nrovocator).
Thank you, God, more still, for winter-before-spring discounts so I am able to join the fat-stripes fashion coup at $60 a pop for my polo shirts instead of $175 (incu).
I highly recommend my fellow Sydneysiders to make their way to Oxford St, Paddington before 1 Aug. (Phil, this is your best chance of recreating the golden glories of the gorgeous gay you enjoyed during the Danny era, lol)
But did you think I was just going to make a LJ post about stupid clothes? No! Today's shopping was therapy for me, for which now I shall relate the attending circumstances.
You see, precisely because I am not shallow, sleazy or stupid, I have always hated the Shift. But I was there last night, on a date with a boy. There are so many things wrong with that but nothing upset me more than this: I was at the Shift for a boy. I'm not even ever at the Shift for a friend, but I was there for a boy that I met for a second time. Boo Zen, boo! Anyway, to cut a long story short, we had a good time but he had other issues in his life that need to be worked through so he and I weren't to be.
I am not at all angry or upset at him. He's a decent guy and we had fun. But I am just pissed off at myself, my unprincipled willingness to make exceptions and concessions for anyone or anything my rather quick-tempered passion takes a fancy to.
Anyway, I'm going to stop this post here because my train of thought has been interrupted by a phone call. =)