While walking back from the grocery store this afternoon, I saw a feller (yes, you read correctly: feller) on the other side of the street wearing a large (and I mean large) cowboy hat, tight jeans and those little zip-up fleeced jackets cowpokes wear when they're out for days on the range.
It took me a second (after smiling at the familiarity of the scene) to realize that I'm not in Utah anymore. I'm in Boston. Huh.
And seeing a cowboy out here is a rare sight indeed.
Made me wonder how long he'll be wearing that outfit of his before he gives it up for polos from Abercrombie & Fitch. (Which. Oh, my. Erm. Don't bring up their main page unless you like seeing exquisitely sculpted male torsos.)
3 comments:
That's awesome. You should have asked him out :)
Ok...actually I've always hated those crazy tight pants. I'm all about comfortable clothes...on myself and on others. Too many years in Alaska and Seattle. Everytime I'm buying peanut butter and look over to see the woman next to me wearing pearls and heels on a Saturday morning I'm reminded that I'm in a strange strange place here.
Pam, have I ever told you that I just adore you? If not, I am much in error. Because you are so freaking awesome.
(And I hope you're comfortably dressed down there in DC.)
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