I’m officially imposing a ban on urban hipster fashion. Whose cruel idea of a joke was it to festoon everything from tees to mouse pads with sparkly tigers and garish colors? If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear these togs were designed by a 10-year-old boy deep in the throes of a Ritalin-inspired doodle session. Much obliged, Mr. Audigier. Tawdry trucker hats off to you, good sir.
Before I put this rant to rest, I’d like to extend a gentle reminder to the Affliction and TapouT clothing victims: Just because you wear the stuff doesn’t mean you can fight like Georges St-Pierre; it just means you look like d-bags. … Oops. Did I write that out loud? I sure as Shiseido did. Me and my big keyboard.
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