Alternate post title: Kase, it’s happening. Get over it.
A couple of years ago, Kase and I were walking in Georgetown on our way to brunch. We were window shopping and happened upon Vineyard Vines. Now it being wintertime, I think the temperature was around 40 degrees. Decidedly *not* flip flop weather. But as we passed by, we were greeted by a young man in what can only be described as pink pants, a polo with a popped collar and leather flip flops. And boy was he happy. As he yelled good morning at us, I couldn’t help but gawk. I was all wrapped up in down everything with Uggs to match, and this college kid is strutting around with no socks and short sleeves. YOUTHS. I looked over at Kase and he looked…..disgusted. This is an odd look to encounter on Kase. He is usually very happy. Muppety. Before I could even ask, he said “Those pants are stupid. I hate that store.”
Now this is problematic. Because I happen to love a nice prepster. Kase had me fooled when we met. I mean, he owned a braided belt. DON’T DENY IT, KASE. He also owned a jean jacket, but we don’t discuss that anymore. The jury ruled.
But back to the pink pants. Just for the record: they aren’t pink. They are “Nantucket Reds.” And they are awesome. And quite obviously, I need my son to have a pair. NOW. And not just the pants. The whole kit and caboodle. I want people to ask me what prep pre-school he goes to. I’ll respond he’s a Gymbo man. And then he’ll do the secret handshake. Which involves flapping his arms around and screaming. Kinda like they do at Yale. Or so I imagine.
But seriously, Kase. It’s happening. Deal with it.
This outfit just calls for a special outing to the island of Nantucket, don’t you think? I mean, there’s even a change of shoes. You know. Just in case Colin is invited to go clamming. Or to a yacht party. Whatever.
And besides, you can’t call a little kid a douchebag. It just isn’t done.