A friend from California was visiting town this weekend, and we met up for drinks at a very straight, very classic sports bar in the West Village. Cass and I met up online via a fashion website for more avant garde menswear, so after the gym I threw on a pair of drop-crotch shorts and a distressed scoop-neck tee and sockless, laceless Margiela shoes and went out to meet him for a drink, fashion forward but nothing too dressed up. I met Cass right outside the bar, and there he was, over 6 feet tall in a sheer Rick Owens shirt, drop-crotch grey pants and a hat worn just so. Needless to say we were completely out of place.
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