with all kinds of Proenza weirdness everpresent functioning full time in the most subversive and sartorially protective manner. Origami folded cottons and leather serve as incubators of asian minimalism within wintery bleak New York alleys. In light or darkness of such matters I see myself in my mind’s eye a boxy oversized binary monochrome silhouette walking in confidence feeling dysfunctional.
Just like Holden, I would nonchalantly note:
“It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.”