Walk-Over…in addition to GH Bass, provided a well priced dirty buck when I was in college. I can’t remember who sold them but I can remember having a pair or two.
And you can best believe that I’ll be sporting these fuzzies that I just found in their Spring 2011 lineup. Spare me the tisk tisking. You know I’ll get ‘em and you know I’ll wear ‘em.
I’m already channeling the Sunday afternoon that’ll call for them. Just a wee bit too much sun by the pool. Shave-shower and don the linen. The ADG carcass throwing off a bit of heat as the vitamin-D settles in and manifests its therapeutic pop.
Linen trousers that shoulda been thrown away two summers ago. Cocktails. Cold ones. Especially summer ones that are so cold they not only burn on the way down but sizzle when they bottom out. Who couldn't help but be energized? The post-pool shower accelerates the glow. Preening like a Jack Russell just back from the groomers.
A smug swagger offers just enough extra to further incense those who gawk at the absurdity of a middle aged man in green soled shoes.
And certainly, waist pageantry in a completely different shade of green will transport this contrivance beyond fuzzidom to some Oz-esque redneck boondoggle of vulgarity. Mizrahi meets Jackass.
I’m thinking dinner at the bar. It’s half-price wine night at Mendocino in Georgetown. A ruse that promises to relieve you of twice the dosh you’d spend on any other night. Funny how that works. Seems like a light, flaky pan fish of some type would complement not only my sartorial flakiness but the non-sweltering-laser focused sun and heat of the early day too. Grilled…almost dry. No mid-winter heavy sauce comfort food concoction required.
It’s not needed on evenings when sun remnants still hold the sky at seven-thirty. Hurry spring. Hurry summer