Homeless Chic

Ok… so it may be a tad bit of an exaggeration that Butterfinger and I are currently sporting the fall line for ‘Homeless Chic’, but it just sounds so much better than ‘Startup Sportswear’ or ‘Budget Couture’. I actually really enjoy hunting for bargains, and prefer to buy clothing at Target. What I hate is that before I even decide to make a purchase, I will add up in my head how many burritos a shirt is worth, or the number of tuna cans a pair of shoes are equivalent to. This type of mathematical logic always results in leaving the store with the bare necessities, and is the main reason why the majority of the outfits I wear date by to my college days and Butterfinger’s look is from the same era.

I am able to wear scrubs to work every day and Butterfinger works from home, so it is not too often that our Homeless Chic line is exposed to the public, but it must be pretty entertaining for the style-conscious inhabitants of Southern California when Butterfinger and I venture out together. I am already not the most stylish person on the planet, and I can not help but think that I must look like a crazy cat lady when I leave the house in wide-leg jeans with stains on them, paired with a t-shirt from the Pocono Mountains with an image of howling wolves emblazoned on the front. Butterfinger was blessed with a better eye for fashion and when he purchased the majority of his wardrobe he chose lots of jeans and t-shirts that do not really ever become dated, but wash and wear has worn some of his items to the point of no return – hence the appearance of homelessness.

I could really care less what people think of what we wear, in fact, I have no desire to keep up on the latest fashions and waste money on 80′s style clothing that will be old news in a couple of months. I like to think that we are trendsetters in our own right, refusing to upgrade to the new styles until we feel like we are making an impact, whether it be with the startup or otherwise. My only issue right now is that I really want to be able to go to the store and buy a new pair of sneakers to wear to work, since the ones I have are starting to sprout holes on either side and the Nike Air pocket has been flattened. I think my only hope is to truly have a breakdown of sorts, have a couple of beers, and get Butterfinger to drive me to the mall while my inhibitions are down so I am able to part with the stack of Lincolns required to purchase decent shoes.