Saturday, November 22, 2014

i went to a pop-up shop


The consumer season -- also known as Christmas -- is fast approaching and to no one's surprise, Beyonce drops a re-release of her self-titled album because why the fuck not ($$$). I'm not the type to order an eggnog and spend hours holiday shopping because that shit is depressing and I'm really just trying to ruin capitalism. That doesn't mean that I still can't enjoy myself. So, on this melancholic Saturday, I went to a holiday pop-up shop and purchased nothing.



It wasn't just any kind of pop-up shop. It was the Etsy kind where creativity comes to die. (JK, Etsy so kewl).

There were adorable stations of hand-crafted good shit everywhere. The products were gift ready and priced reasonably, I guess. After ladies were screaming over beautiful terrariums, I noticed that I was the only male in the pop-up shop. Okay, there was one other male labouring in the back on a Mac and I think we can safely assume that he's a freelance graphic designer.

Gentlemen, we got one rack to ourselves. Or, at least half a rack. There were leather accessories, ties and plaid shirts with a deer emblazoned on them. All fun things your urban man friend would like for Christmas. I honestly prefer $100 of cold hard polymer cash or dinner for two at Nirvana.

Consensual sex is also a great gift.

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