European Men
I'll be honest: I own a plain zip-up hoodie from H&M. And my favorite pair of jeans that I have at the moment are a 130 kuai pair of stonewashed, faded blues from Jack & Jones. But that's it. No floral patterns or T-shirts with a pullstring for me, thanks.
Maybe it's from being raised American or from hanging out with people as cynical, if not moreso, than myself, but I have a natural aversion towards silk scarves paired with tight plain white T-shirts, one which causes me to furl my eyebrows until migraines rear their ugly head.
Now, I know some of you are thinking, "C'mon, Robert, you're describing a metrosexual male, or a male who is fashionably conscious and keeping up with the changing times." No I'm not. There's a reason a term "metrosexual" exists in America, and there's also a reason we refer to these men as simply "European."
I know some of you are also thinking, "what's wrong with expressing yourself through your clothing?" Yes, I own some 8-bit videogame themed T-shirts, clever ones at that. I have no problem with fashion sense, or lack thereof. There's also the philosophy book by Derrida tucked under the arm at all times, the plain black leather laptop bag with the MacBook peeking its unique, non-conformist, one-of-a-kind head ever so accidentally out of the unzipped opening, and the Chinese girl dangling on the arm and hanging on every poorly constructed English sentence and malapropism he manages to sputter out of his unshaven face. Great. Thanks, guys. Now I get to put up with awkward conversations about nothing whenever I sit down and try to study for the goddamn LSATs at my former-favorite coffee shop.
Goddamn it, I did it again. I think I'm just describing White people in general. Ah, well.
Get a haircut, assholes. Put on a fuckin' Quiksilver shirt, and for god's sake, try to be more like this guy:
That's the real motherfucker right there. Mmmm-hmmmm.
I'll be honest: I own a plain zip-up hoodie from H&M. And my favorite pair of jeans that I have at the moment are a 130 kuai pair of stonewashed, faded blues from Jack & Jones. But that's it. No floral patterns or T-shirts with a pullstring for me, thanks.
Maybe it's from being raised American or from hanging out with people as cynical, if not moreso, than myself, but I have a natural aversion towards silk scarves paired with tight plain white T-shirts, one which causes me to furl my eyebrows until migraines rear their ugly head.
Now, I know some of you are thinking, "C'mon, Robert, you're describing a metrosexual male, or a male who is fashionably conscious and keeping up with the changing times." No I'm not. There's a reason a term "metrosexual" exists in America, and there's also a reason we refer to these men as simply "European."
I know some of you are also thinking, "what's wrong with expressing yourself through your clothing?" Yes, I own some 8-bit videogame themed T-shirts, clever ones at that. I have no problem with fashion sense, or lack thereof. There's also the philosophy book by Derrida tucked under the arm at all times, the plain black leather laptop bag with the MacBook peeking its unique, non-conformist, one-of-a-kind head ever so accidentally out of the unzipped opening, and the Chinese girl dangling on the arm and hanging on every poorly constructed English sentence and malapropism he manages to sputter out of his unshaven face. Great. Thanks, guys. Now I get to put up with awkward conversations about nothing whenever I sit down and try to study for the goddamn LSATs at my former-favorite coffee shop.
Goddamn it, I did it again. I think I'm just describing White people in general. Ah, well.
Get a haircut, assholes. Put on a fuckin' Quiksilver shirt, and for god's sake, try to be more like this guy:
That's the real motherfucker right there. Mmmm-hmmmm.
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