I thought nothing could top the faux fur-lined crocs of a monk riding the subway but I was proven wrong.
A young man was decked from head to toe in Gucci: ugly green and red sneakers, a GG tracksuit, a Mickey Mouse Gucci T-shirt which calls into so many questions the business relationship between the two, and a Gucci cap.
He also had a bag slung across his shoulder and by the red and green straps I knew that too was Guccci. He had glasses but I’m not hip or rich enough to tell if they were a local buy.
His two friends were in brandless gym clothing though one had in Gucci slides that he either borrowed from Mr. G himself or had funneled his paycheck into the only Gucci item he could afford.
Personally I don’t like modern name brands for name brand sake. They broadcast neither quality nor style; they are made in the same factory by the same (potentially slave) labor as the Walmart store brand.
I do appreciate his loyalty but no one can convince me that an overpriced tracksuit is any more stylish than the crushed velvet warmup set of a Jersey Shore DJ.