The Skateboard Kid Had It Right
There’s a kid in a Mickey Mouse shirt with a broken arm and a cigarette, and somehow all three of those things are competing to be the worst thing about him. The shirt wins. His parents owe someone an apology; I’m just not sure who.
Suspenders have been terminally uncool since roughly 1945—historical record, not opinion. But occasionally someone wears them like they know exactly what they’re doing, and the whole calculus reverses. I’m not above revising my positions.
Lara’s got a tiger shirt on—yellow eyes, blown-out pastels, a weird fake collar in clashing colors—and it should be a disaster but isn’t quite. Something about her nose in the frame is more distracting anyway, though that might actually be the point.
Pink underwear, skin-tight, worn like a declaration rather than an afterthought. There are whole novels written with less confidence than that. I don’t have much more to add.
Gottfried and Fridolin—not their real names, but they look it—have assembled a complete catalog of wrong decisions: the glasses, the outfits, the expressions. Some people are simply not built for the era they were born into. Maybe the next one.
Adidas Originals is one of those rare things that never actually goes away. The tight-cut dress version, the hoodie, the shoes—three stripes, and none of it has ever stopped working. I’ve cycled through a lot of fashion convictions over the years and this one has held.
Japanese school uniforms are the sustained fantasy of every male organism between twelve and eighty-nine. I don’t make the rules. Whoever designed that particular silhouette—the pleated skirt, the white collar—understood something deep about human psychology and deserves an acknowledgment of some kind.
Some sick bastards apparently get hard watching little girls pee—and sure, humanity contains multitudes. But whatever’s happening in this particular photo isn’t even that. It’s just a mess. Mommy, please come collect this.
Then there’s the kid with the skateboard. Loose pants, the right shoes, a shirt that just works, cap turned backward, skin tone that looks designed to photograph well, an expression like he knows exactly where he’s going and you don’t. I would trade lives with him immediately. Zero hesitation.