Here I am to dispel any notion that gays have an inherent sense of style or are too proud to leave the house without being properly quaffed. Lance+Jeff, crushing stereotypes daily!!
My dream of living in Chicago (it’s like New York, except cleaner!) will probably never come to pass: I hate the cold.
Though a native of mitten-shaped Michigan, where I spent the formative years of life under an overcast blanket five months out of every year, we lived not far from the border with Ohio. Everybody assumes Michigan is some frozen wasteland, but suburban Detroit’s climate is not unlike the Northeast’s.
With age, though, comes a general intolerance of everything: in my case the cold, especially. It dips below 50 and I’m shivering me timbers.
The problem with living in the Northeast is that you spend a good chunk of every year below the freezing mark, so you don’t have any excuse to make it look nice. Look at Lance’s fashionable Lululemon outerwear:
See? He makes the cold work for him. Stylish and functional!
I, however, can’t go outside this time of year without bundling up like I’m going on a lengthy and colorblind dog sled run through the Arctic Circle. Nothing goes together: the red hat, the purple-striped scarf, the charcoal gloves riddled with holes.
I keep an extra pair of dog-mangled fingerless gloves at work because our building’s heating is so bad.
And I have this saggy skater hat I bought from Hot Topic for $4 a year or so back during my quarter-life crisis (™ John Mayer)…Lance won’t let me wear it.
My favorite though is this flappy-earred hat I’ve had for several years, which may accentuate the enormity of my forehead, but I like to think it just stresses that my brain is really big.
If you want my look, you’ll mix-and-match any of these for a sad-sack “Coat of Many Colors” effect. You may feel warm, but the other kids will laugh at you.
I should be embarrassed and ashamed of myself for walking out of the house like this, and I am a little, but WHATEVER I’M WARM.