delible ink

I dunno, maybe I looked at him sideways as I slid into the bench. (Couldn’t have been that – I would have been steering my cappu to rest, eyeing its landing on the table. One mustn’t fuck around with great coffee.) So I guess I failed to look him in the eye, lingering too long on his sweater. Purple and…some other colour. Horizontal stripes (good thing he’s a waif – didn’t anyone tell him about the extra 10 lbs.?). I guess he was a little self-conscious, because he quickly distracted me with the story of its origin – Barcelona, on the cheap – and destiny – fave covering, immune to the dictates of contemporary fashion .Trouble is, I’m pretty sure the sucker’s en vogue. Hell, lumberjack coats are (again) (for the third time).

So we segued from his unintentionally chic sweater to the nature of fashion (recurrent) while my mind wandered to thoughts of the safekeeping of long-term sartorial investments (a cardboard box in the back of your closet).

It all keeps coming back – clothes, ideas, uncertainties. Page 133 (a green knit sweater, says the caption – all I see is an ivory shoulder, one quadricep and a pair of feline eyes) flips to 134.

And there he is. Again. Today’s fashion.

What will you be tomorrow?