Last Night with A. Wang

Now before I continue to cruelly mislead you into expecting the following post to feature explicit photos of the male genitalia, I will clarify. Alexander Wang came to visit me last night, in a cardboard box all the way from France. Not some greasy Japanese gigolo, oh no no, who do you think I am?? Shame on you for giving into the persuasiveness of catchy titles and questioning my moral and sexual stability! And yes I had to pay for him, but he's going to service me for years to come and he will never leave me in the morning without saying goodbye! Plus I found him on eBay, not the street corner, although I will definitely wear these on the street corner, because they are so downtown meets uptown oooohh-la-la chic yet masculine-influenced enough to ensure that no sexually-starved middle-aged men mistake me for a prosti-tot (because, let's be serious, I look like a toddler who just had an unexpected growth spurt).

I also picked up this mohair cardigan from the vintage section of Urban Outfitters, just to really ensure that I will never be asked how much I charge, and instead will actually actively neutralize any possible male attraction targeted at me. Because, you know, every man wants to get with the human version of a mountain goat.