Men's Second Style

You never know what a billionaire might look like.  Not all of them look like Rockefellers.  It might be the guy sitting next to you on the bus (improbable), or the woman with the gaudy jewelry and the loud voice in the ladies’ room at the opera (more likely).  Chances are it’s not the checker at the supermarket, although a recent lotto win is at least technically possible.  But it certainly could be the guy sitting in front of you at the racetrack–you know, the guy in the fedora, very casually dressed, sitting alone, doesn’t talk much, never even glances at the racing form.  The one who never cheers or has any reaction at all to the outcome of the races.  The one who never seems to win or lose, just makes silent trips to the mutuel window every so often.  The guy who pays zero attention to the cute blond jockey-ette to his right (although that could be her choice of skin, which although pretty is a demo).  He could definitely be a billionaire, or at least a millionaire, especially if it’s a weekday, when the gainfully employed are typically at work, gainfully pursuing their employment.  So, yeah, you never know what a billionaire might look like.  I mean, look at Bill Gates.

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Green was his lucky color.  He made a point of wearing it whenever he went to the track, just in case.  Hey, it’s the color of cash, so why not?  The ladies always told him it looked good on him, “made his eyes pop” or some such crap.  If so, that was lucky too.  He didn’t care one way or another, so long as he had something green to wear.  Fortunately, his valet had found this great layered V-neck at a boutique called, of all things, Shit Luck.  Now, that just had to be an omen or something, right?  You’re damn right it did, and by God he would wear it to the races or he’d know the reason why not.  By God.  If pressed, he might grudgingly acknowledge that he quite liked the fabric’s tone-on-tone pattern, but he really got off on the small brand tag in the back.  The little blue-haired old ladies waiting behind him in line to buy beer would invariably lean in close to make out the words, then gasp aloud when they realized that one of them was of the naughty four-letter variety.  Little moments like that really make live worth living.

He would also wear his lucky necklace.  Oh, definitely.  He had picked this up for himself (yes, he did occasionally run his own errands, thank you very much) at an establishment by the name of Civvies, and clearly of highly dubious reputation at that.  Was it a military surplus, pawnshop or what?  He couldn’t quite remember.  Anyway, he didn’t usually go in so much for the jewelry, but the four-leaf clover had kinda jumped out at him–it was green, hello!  And when he looked closer and saw the horseshoe…well, he knew it was another omen.  And both paved with rhinestones?  That was just pure class.  Sold!  Cha-ching!  Hell, why not?  He was rich.

His valet told him he had found the pants at Unknown Boutique.  Now, if that hadn’t been a “who’s on first?” discussion, he didn’t know what would be.  Dammit, if you don’t remember where you got them, just say so!  It had taken ten minutes to figure out that the man was saying “Unknown Boutique” and not “an unknown boutique.”  Fortunately, he had always been a patient man, so although he fired the valet for being patently useless, he only let him squirm for about an hour before he hired him back.  In retrospect, this was the right decision, because the slacks were really quite spiff.  They were very nicely finished, with a clean, sharp crease in front, tab closure at the waist, button pockets in back, and really snappy side stripes.  They were comfy, too, so he knew he’d get a lot of mileage out of them, and that was a good thing.  He might be rich, but his mother hadn’t raised him to be a spendthrift, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He hadn’t been able to find his lucky green socks today, but that would just have to be okay.  That would hardly matter, anyway, because he was wearing his favorite old slouchy high-tops.  He loved his PornStars, as clearly evidenced by the mash note he had scrawled in blue ballpoint on the left toe, no doubt in bleary, drunken affection.  Oh, if only the blue-haired old ladies could make out the name on these bad boys!  They’d cough up their strained peas.  He figured they couldn’t possibly read the tags without bending over, and if they tried that they might never recover.

His shoes might be old, but the fedora was new.  It too was from the Unknown Boutique, which he had made a point of visiting once his valet had managed, albeit through much stammering, to explain himself and his apparent confusion over the name of the place.  In his humble opinion, the hat was in its own way a classic, with clean lines and an unassuming profile.  It came with four different bands, too, which made for easy accessorizing.  It actually reminded him a little of his grandfather, who had had a hat for every occasion.  Now there was a man who loved the ponies–to excess, if you had asked his grandmother.

Ah, memories.  He decided that he’d put a few bucks on a nag with a likely sounding name, in memory of Grandad, and throw down for a round of drinks if he won.

Handy Shopping List (Clip and Save!)

V Neck Shirts by CK Winx.  8 colors, all layers.  L$100 each or L$400 for the pack.  At Shit Luck (Rigby 132, 113, 21).

Lucky Bastard necklace by Posy Trudeau – her first jewelry!  Large and Small sizes included for L$250.  At Civvies (Scout 177, 181, 251).

Side Line Slacks and Sculpted Fedora in Black by Unknown Jewell.  4 slacks styles: dark and light fabric, with light and dark side stripes.  4 band colors on the fedora (change by touch).  L$150 each.  At Unknown Boutique (Shimokitazawa 57, 107, 17).

PornStar Xtra Hi-Tops Multi Color v2 by Coke Dreadlow.  Customize to your heart’s content via touch menu: wear folded over or at glorious full height, make all kinds of color tweaks.
L$595 a pair.  At Urban Bomb Unit (Kahmiya Cove 224, 226, 24).