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one bad coat.

scene: gas station at the intersection of Woodward and Palmer, exterior, day. winter.

homeless man: "that is one baaaaad coat!"
me: "thank you."

(the coat in question is a brown tweed Comme des Garcons "deconstructed" trenchcoat which i received as a gift under what i now understand to be highly dubious circumstances. definitely worth more than anything else i currently or ever will own.)

homeless man: "no, that is one baaaaad coat. how long have you had it?"
me: "uh, a couple of years."
homeless man: (shaking head) "it's baaaaad, miss. real bad."

(initially pleased that this man and i shared a common love of fashion, i soon realized that to him, "deconstruction" as fashion looked pretty much the same as "really beat up." and so, in this situation, "baaaad" did not mean "cool." it meant "time to get a new coat.")

i short, somebody payed thousands of dollars for a jacket that a homeless man advised me to get rid of.
likewise, i'd be interested in his revisionist account of the avant-garde.