I overheard this exchange between a young man and a young woman a few weeks ago on Sixth Avenue. The man was neatly dressed. The woman...well...let's just say she was so tricked out in alt-trends that it looked like all of hipster Brooklyn just barfed all over her.
NEAT MAN: OK. Well. Wow. That's not at all what I thought you'd be wearing today.
MADEMOISELLE TRENDITA: Is something wrong with my outfit?
NEAT MAN scans her up and down, clicks his tongue against his teeth.
NEAT MAN: It's interesting. What you're wearing is interesting.
MADEMOISELLE TRENDITA: Totally. That's what I was going for.
NEAT MAN: Listen. Why don't I give you fifty bucks to go buy something nice? You can change.
NEAT MAN: Omigod. Was that so rude of me or what? I guess it was rude. Did you think that was rude of me to ask?
NEAT MAN: Listen, let's just go to like the Gap or something and you can get a nice dress. Let's face it. What you're wearing is a nightmare and I can't have it. I just can't believe that's what you'd wear today...
Unfortunately, they turned off after that. I never knew if Mme. Trendita (his date? his hired beard? his employee? his hooker?) gave in to his stylistic whims or if she jammed her ankle-bootied foot in his ass and got her Bushwick ladyballs out of there.