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It's a #truefact that I could not pull off these Dr. Martens x Stüssy Bailey Creepers, but I know my dad could. Let's face it: my dad wears cooler shit than me, you, and your dad. Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just truth-telling here. Please don't take your pent-up election rage out on this lowly fashion blogger. I understand your pain. I understand your confusion. "How did it all come to this?", you ask. "We are paying for our sins", I whisper back. There was a period of time in the past when I thought it was acceptable to wear a vest with casual outfits. There are photos. They are unfortunate. I'm not sure how one atones for such misdeeds, aside from extended bouts of self-flagellation with a homemade cat o' nine tails. When it comes to atonement, I like to go old school. Same thing with the shoes: old school. Don't you love the moment when I bring it around full circle in a totally natural manner? What do you mean that segue felt forced? How dare you. Ungrateful. This society is coming apart at the seams: people accusing me of convoluting segues, also other stuff. Coming apart at the seams, I say. There's no common dignity anymore. No honor. This is a world where a man would kill his brother for his HBO NOW password, because, as much as we hate paying for our sins, we really hate paying for our television. Plus, if you're not watching Westworld, you're not living. I know that has virtually nothing to do with this post, but I'm serious. That show is fucking fire -RB
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