We're so over, AA

I am proud to say that I no longer crave shopping at American Apparel. There, I said it. It has been so difficult, this summer, to resist the bold colours and soft t-shirts, not to mention moving to the big city and feeling like I needed to be up to par with all the fashionable and stylish.

I'm not exactly sure how my secret AA obsession plateaued. It probably actually has to do with the fact that 1) I dropped a big load on the incredibly beautiful laptop I am currently typing on and 2) therefore, cannot be spending $35 on a t-shirt. On top of that, all the relationship drama I have had in my life in the past month has kept my mind off of what purchase to make next. Oh...and I've met too many irritating AA-clad queers in the past seven months to put me off of their merchandise for a while.

This isn't to say I will never purchase anything from the store again. I do still find myself wanting to snag a few items. I can make AA my "own," right?....Right? I would like to think so. My wardrobe isn't made up entirely of their clothing. My outfits are usually made up of a mix of an expensive, durable piece (which usually means my lezzie Blundstones), some sort of reconstructed piece I made myself, buttons made by someone I know, shitty jeans I've been wearing for years and something from a popular retail store (H&M...American Apparel...god, even Suzy Shier sometimes).

My desire to buy hasn't died though. And I don't know if it ever will. I have been craving Salvation Army, Value Village and 69 By the Pound for the past two weeks. Someone come with me! Please!?

Aunties & Uncles

This weekend was one of indulgence. Aside from having just spent a breathtaking (and not in the good way) amount of money on this new MacBook I'm typing on, I had brunch at Aunties & Uncles two days in a row. 

My first trip to Aunties and Uncles was thanks to Bryn. My second visit was me trying to impress Maria with my knowledge of good food in the city, which is something I am always working towards expanding (too bad my savings account is only shrinking, rather than expanding, in size). 

I was overwhelmed by the sea of plaid-clad white boys who also chose to dine at Aunties and Uncles those two days. They were everywhere! Behind me, next to me, at the table in the far corner and my server too! Not only the plaid, but "ironic" moustaches, oversized glasses and combed over side parts! I was in -ister anthropological heaven. Seriously, cover me in honey and throw me to the -isters. Or lesbians, whichever.

I mean, the food and service at Aunties and Uncles are great, but what is this magnetic pull that brings all of these boys to the yard? Is it the Bob Dylan and The Beatles playing overhead? Or do they genuinely like the kitschy retro paraphernalia decorating the place? I would really love to know. Maybe, one day, I will work up the courage to ask one of the (plaid or band t-shirt donning) servers what their secret is. I think I just might. I'm that obsessed with -ister culture.

Oh, also have noticed that all of the plaid boys were dining with other boys. All of the good-looking, hip white boys were there with...other good-looking, hip white boys. I have awful gay-dar (which is rather unfortunate) and couldn't tell whether or not the boys were of the gay kind. I've been boy friend-less for so long that I can no longer tell anything about that species. 

Sexual orientation aside, what I did manage to guess was that they all either:

a. play in bands

b. write for blogs

c. go to hip parties that I wish I was able to attend

d. all of the above

On a completely different note, one of the downsides to a hip brunch destination like this one is the likely chance to bumping into people you may find yourself in awkward situations with. For me, it wasn't that bad. There just so happened to be two girls (at two separate tables) that I recognized, but for the love of god, did not remember where from. Maybe the bookstore? Maybe some queer event? I made eye contact with one of them, which I obviously dealt with by snapping my head back towards my peeps. When will I ever learn that in order to survive in this city, one has to open up to novel ideas like smiling and saying hello.

Boys. Gay boys.

Girls. Gay girls.

Whatever.

All this lezzie knows is that the breakfast pocket at Aunties and Uncles rules my life.