This morning as I buttoned up one of my favorite shirts, The Big Shirt from Abercrombie and Fitch, which I probably have had for 20 years, I noticed that the cuffs were more than a little worn. Thank Heavens I could still button it. (I would have a picture here if I hadn’t lost my little digital camera.) So I thought I would check out the A&F store at the mall, you know, the one that shows those large pictures of skinny teenagers just about to fall out of their jeans. Click the hyperlink above if you have forgotten what they look like. I must confess that these pictures caught my attention though I suspect it was because I probably would not be able to resist walking up behind this guy and giving a slight tug to his trousers, up or down I’m not sure, it would probably depend on how big he was.
I guess the pictures should have warned me that big plaid shirts that sold well to middle-aged men some 20 or more years ago in what was then a vaguely upscale outdoorsy kind of place for the well-off male middle classes were nowhere to be seen. In fact, hardly anyone was to be seen and those shopgirls I did see managed to ignore me, which was probably their nice way of dealing with an out of place old man. Had I enquired I am almost certain they would have asked if I was looking for my granddaughter.
The walls seemed plastered with buffed—I believe that is the current term—young boys, doing slightly lewd things with obviously underage and underfed girls. Clearly, the preferred customers in the A&F of today are the good looking anorexic girls they picture on the walls and perhaps the scantily clad boys who they have draped around themselves. Maybe they should change the name to Abercrombie and Crotch.
Sic transit gloria.