This is the part of my life in which I learn that not only are my old clothes not cool or worth the $4 they pay you at Wasteland to resell them, but that my boss is MORE STYLISH THAN ME by westside hipster standards. I think I've had that sales girl look at me before, judging me. In the lunch line in 2nd grade when I picked orange drink instead of milk. And you know what? We weren't friends then either. The only thing that she bought from me was an XL animal collective T shirt that my boss gave me because he didn't like it. And I was selling it because I didn't like it. (Why are AC's t shirts always so bad....)
I'm out. I am leaving the runway. I'm going to quit being a designer and make rebuses for the rest of my life.
