let’s blow this lame n*gga factory

Q: What to do when an Express Men’s shirt creep up from behind and ask you what your interests are?

A: Run.

When did L.E.S. become so polyester on Saturdays? Is it the recession? What, they ran out of room in Meatpacking for faux Pucci print jersey and Jessica Simpson shoes? Are Kenneth Cole square toed shoes stubbing each other in the toe too much? What, there aren’t enough dark corners in Marquee for your “drunk” self to make bad choices, so you came to LES to be sloppy lipping all over the street? Did all that guido style hair gel finally make the air toxic up there? Since when does LES mean cocktail dresses and fugshiny patent leather heels? $60 total notwithstanding, that’s just trop. Have you seen LES? Dressing up for that mess is too ironic.

The downfall of any neighborhood is ill fitted button downs. One midtown is enough.

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