Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Fashion Week

“We’re live, here in New York City, for the unveiling of an exciting and mysterious line of men’s clothing which called S.L.O.B. Wear, by new designer David Crawford.”

“We say mysterious here on Fashion Television because no one seems to know who this designer is or what kind of fashion he designs, so we’re all looking forward to watching the runway this morning. Over to you Chantrelle!”

“Thanks Enoki! I’m seated beside the runway here, waiting for the first S.L.O.B ensemble to be shown, and there seems to be some sort of security breach. There is a large homeless-looking person up on the runway, wearing what looks like an old awning or tent. Oh dear. He’s spinning and twirling around like he’s actually a model! This is hilarious! I think we’ll need a wide angle shot for this fellow. He’s quite large.”

“I’m sorry but my producer has just asked me to describe what he’s wearing and I’m not sure if I can. It’s making me feel quite nauseous. Let’s see. He is wearing a torn and wrinkled blue short sleeved shirt that may have fit him about 100 pounds ago, over top of a torn undershirt, and some really old shorts which have a back pocket torn off. There is also a pair of pliers in the other back pocket. He’s wearing white tube socks and a large pair of old Birkenstock sandals. This is dreadful. I can’t go on. Oh the humanity!”

“Well, as Chantrelle composes herself, let’s look at the next model coming out from behind the screen.”

“Oh, it’s the large homeless-looking gentleman again. Uh, I’m just being told that this is actually the designer himself – David Crawford! Oh my. This can’t be right. This is a fashion runway, not a thrift store aisle. It looks like he’s wandering around eating something. He’s scratching himself too – like he’s just wandering around his own house or something. I’m feeling faint. Over to you Shiitake.”

“My God this is terrible! He’s wearing a beat up old bathrobe and he’s taken his socks off but he’s still in those dreadful Birkenstocks! You can even see the hideous calluses on his heels! Oh! I just got blinded by the flare off his bald spot there. Ouch! This is putting me right off lunch people…thank goodness. Slimming…”

“Now he’s changed into his outdoor gear. He’s still wearing his old shorts, and the same torn shirt, but now he has a flannel shirt over top, and a black down vest, and a sweaty old ball cap to top it off! Dreadful! Hideous!”

“Oh dear – everyone is jamming the exits to get away from here, and it appears the washrooms are overflowing. Everyone is shrieking and rubbing their eyes! Someone call security! We’ve got to get out of here! And I just broke a nail!!”

“Oh no! Now the guy on the runway is bending over like he’s fixing the sink and I can see his underwear and AAAAAACK!! There’s something shiny visible above his drooping shorts! It’s a quarter! Someone has put a quarter into the crack…I’M GOING TO PURGE MY CELERY STICK!…”

Screen goes black.

“Well, our coverage team seems to be having some difficulty with lunch there in New York.

“We’ll be back after these messages. And some Dramamine.”

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