Best when you pull this out of your pocket to pay busfare:
A kind of chemistry, men’s fashion. Forming a compound with the pale coral and a buttery yellow, a valence of fine camel hair. Two (two!) popped collars and a nervy crimson ascot.
Ladies and gentlemen, if I’m not mistaken, this ensemble carries enough fissile material to reduce the Castro to ashes.
Unspeakable horrors have been visited upon the Upper Haight’s Goodwill.
What is it, this feeling, that you would like to think that you could pull off a look, and then quite quickly realize that no, no you would not, should not, could not?
Dare we call it Tenderloining?
It was crowded and everyone was drinking Colt .45. Is this what they mean by cocktails nowadays?
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