Downtown I see the window displays of Abercrombie and Fitch. A bunch of instant-well worn jeans for your expensive pursual. (Ripped holes were popular in the late 1980s / early 1990s… ala “Thrasher”. Faded and worn in the early to mid 1990s — ala “Grunge”. Anti-fashion as Fashion, and priced fashionably to boot.)

The window displays show their brand identities to “Abercombie and Fitch” models. Particularly striking is this image of a handsome young man… the kind of young Aryan guy that we shall strive for and that everyone will look like as soon as our White Aryan bloodlines are purified.

The thing about this particular model is that he isn’t modelling anything. It’s a photograph of him from his chest up, and he’s not wearing a shirt. What at the store are you supposed to buy because of this guy? I’ll assume that somewhere in the catalouge you will see him wearing something that someone may want to buy, but right now all we have is… the striking White Aryan Brotherhood.

Is my viscarel distaste for Abercombie and Fitch misplaced? I don’t know. Perhaps. But my allies make me squemish here.
Or maybe they don’t.

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