I hadn’t counted on being able to stop at home between work and my
Sunday in the Park with George callback tonight. Now I’m tearing through my meager sartorial trousseau and obsessively rethinking my callback wardrobe. I need to look stuffy and reserved enough to be a plausible Jules yet athletic and devastatingly handsome enough to be discovered and fanboy profiled in some dreary socialistic periodical. I think I’ll wear something nice with swans.
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