We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
Worst. Underwear party. Ever.
What do you get when you mix a dressing-room-less warehouse full of discounted high-end merchandise and flabby old men with hairy backs? Besides nightmares, you get what is quite possibly the unsexiest underwear party ever thrown (aka The Barneys warehouse sale).
I saw a lot of things on Sunday at the Barker Hangar. In addition to a pair of pants that I had seen earlier that day at another retailer for way less money, I saw:
a hideous bright-orange Prada sweater priced at $200,
a handbag that looked more like a picnic basket,
and the sassiest sign since, "We don't swim in your toilet, so don't pee in our pool!," but for some reason, I can't get the image of grandfather-aged men parading around in nothing but boxer briefs, shin-high socks and a smile out of my head.
It was the greatest test of my homosexuality since seeing Will Ferrell's bare ass for the first time.
The Barneys sale is a great place to purchase big-ticket items (like a sharp suit for a bar mitzvah or a designer dress for a wedding) but other than that, it's slim pickings. I suspect the sale will get better as its end date nears (Feb. 18th), when items will be priced to really move, but opening weekend wasn't so great. In fact, I overheard one of the sales associates mentioning that it's been slow everyday since they opened. Maybe everyone in L.A. already knows that, like most things in life, it only gets good at the end. Then again, maybe they just heard about the old guys in their skivvies before I did.
—Marcos Luevanos
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