We Be Haute Couture, Y'all

Occasionally, I'm reminded I live in California. You'd think I wouldn't need these reminders, what with the never-changing weather, Pacific Ocean, and all those California license plates I see in traffic everyday, but I do, and Santa Barbara is more than happy to provide.

Today I had a little time to kill, and wandered into a local clothing boutique - the type that sells two hundred dollar jeans. Now I am not a man who buys two hundred dollar jeans, but I am constantly in danger of becoming that guy, as these jeans actually fit my scrawny hipster ass, in a way sensibly priced jeans for the population at large do not. (There's a reason sports-blogging ladies everywhere aren't campaigning for my physical attributes to be enshrined across the internet. Now go vote for Mike.) My wallet has yet to succumb to their siren call, however.

Don't worry, this does all relate to UNC.

This particular store also pimps overpriced T-shirts, of the typical faux-vintage, fashion-forward variety I never pay much attention to. Today they were devoting a reasonable amount of floor space to a new line of such shirts, with college logos on them. One of which was the old school Rameses logo

on a plain gray tee, artificially distressed in the state T-shirts made after 1979 never actually reach on their own.

Now I'm a fan of old school Rameses. Big fan. I've never been fond of his Joe Camel redesign, but the Strutting Ram? Him, plus the shock of seeing UNC apparel in this enviroment was enough for me to take a closer look. And so I got a glimpse of the price.

The thing was selling for seventy-two dollars. For a T-shirt ninety-percent of the people reading this blog already own. Welcome to California.

The next shirt over, for Pitt was only $66. Being a class establishment, the store didn't sell Duke or N.C. State (or even misappropriated Wolfpack) apparel. The free market has spoken, and its judgement cannot be denied.

Of course, now I can't consider picking up those jeans I had my eye on without seeing Rameses' stern glare of disapproval. I wonder if this place has sales...

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