This Has To Be The Fourth Time.

This weekend was an altogether lazy affair. Somewhat by choice and somewhat by necessity. I attended a meeting at work on Friday afternoon, the subject matter of which, quite naturally, almost had me flying up to Seattle and quitting this disaster of Los Angeles once and for all. The words to Walk Away Rene stirring in my head as I convinced myself I would never look upon this place again. I gathered myself somewhat and stopped short of buying a $600 plane ticket. But the entire episode took it's dear toll.

Did some thrifting and whatnot on Saturday. I went to Amoeba and picked up some documentaries. The nit at the check stand asked me if I was doing research. I told her that I could in fact read if I needed to do research and that these films were for my afternoon leisure. I hate Amoeba so very much.

Had a delightful Sunday brunch with Compadre at the Red Lion. I had some interesting latkes which came about after the server told me I may not enjoy pickled herring. It was a German restaurant so most everything on the menu was an adventure. Did some more thrifting this time at the Hollywood Goodwill and picked up another Seize Sur Vingt shirt, and some really weird Issey Miyake smock, and this and that of course.
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The Milan menswear shows have been hitting the news lately. The main themes are growing concern over market over saturation with McBrand this and McBrand there, and of course the ever growing Euro-Gap APC which I understand just opened it's second outlet store in - you may have to sit down for this - Brooklyn. Fashion it seems is just full of surprises. Oh and apparently anglomania is the new thing, not the Vivienne Westwood line, but the actual word. But we knew that already. I hardly ever leave my house without listening to Rule Britannia.

If I see you wearing plaid or flannel outside your house I will make fun of you. And I will not stop until you suffocate on your own shame.