Fashion was kind of a free-for-all in the 80s. A ginger could wear a hand-painted silk tie he bought at Heathrow on a layover and pair it with a brown leather jacket to make himself look kind of Indiana Jones-cool. On the other hand, a guy genetically engineered to be an 80s stud as a Selleck-sans-stache can fuck his whole game up by wearing 1940s-era pants with a wool flat bottom tie. The world was a strange place.
You can tell just by his look that this guy has better things to do than talk to you. Like, he needs to repair his fixed-gear bike and maybe lay down a few tracks with his artisanal-hip-hop-tronica group before they go to the Yacht show tonight. On Thirtysomehting, btw, he’s a one-time character who works at a camping supply store. Can we say “miscast?” What a waste of some good frames.
Hey, look at that, Hope’s wearing the official we’re-married-let’s-give-up-fucking uniform.
Shoulder pads are to fashion what emergency life vests are to plane passengers – they just don’t work. If your plane crashes a little piece of inflatable vinyl around your neck won’t save you and if your outfit is crashing then making the area around your face lumpier definitely won’t save you. The bolo tie is the last nail in the coffin.
“Sorry, I’m having a hard time hearing you over how little I care about pussy,” is a pretty good bail-line for a bad first date.
“Sorry, I’m having a hard time hearing you over how little I care about pussy.” (You can’t improve upon perfection.)
Written by Kelli