Made In America

Yesterday, I walked past a guy in Union Square who turned my head. Not in that attractive way, but in that “What is he thinking?!” way. He was wearing fire engine red leg warmers up to his knees over day-glo skinny jeans. You know that test psychologists like to give, where they show you an image and you have to blurt out the first word that comes to mind? This guy immediately caused me to (internally) blurt out “American Apparel!

American Apparel thoroughly perplexes me. I walk by the store every day, and every time, I can’t help but think, “Who wears this stuff?” And then I answer my own question, “Dancers. Gay dancers.”

I mean, unless it’s Halloween, or you’re Madonna, then yeah, I’m pretty sure their consumer base is limited to contestants on TV dance shows.

Seriously, I can’t image anyone else being able to pull off, or being remotely interested in the American Apparel look. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just imagine gold (and silver and red and purple…) lamé skin-tight, high-waisted leggings. In fact (and I love that this happened), when I Googled “lamé”, the first hit was for American Apparel.


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