Here’s a good time to have a teenage sister, when you are pursuing a ridiculous clothing accessory. I woke up this morning and thought to myself, “Hmm…I’ve never worn a vest before. I should get one. Bob Dylan pulled it off how hard could it be?” Here’s the thing, I had no idea where to find a vest. However, I did have train tickets, a free afternoon, an intimate knowledge of the East Village, and a sixteen year-old sister, who is so opinionated whatever I found would be at least presentable.

So here’s something awesome, vintage clothing stores. I had been to these places before in Camden, but to actually be able to go to a vintage place that didn’t consist entirely of things that would look out of place at an Iron Maiden concert or an S&M club was a huge relief. Almost everything in this place looked slightly tacky, but at the same time, actually quite interesting. It’s like that guy you run into at a small party, he’s giving off a weird vibe and has no aura of cool, but as it turns out is the life of the party and tells amazing stories.

So now I own a vest. It’s a light brown corduroy number that I picked up for ten dollars on the nose. It is awesome. Now the trick is trying to avoid wearing it all the time.


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