#black patent loafers

[dannnation]

#patent loafers #loafers #women shoes #patent shoes #patent #platform loafers #platform #platform shoes #black patent loafers

[platanarium]

Feeling adventurous...

#ootd #outfit #mirror selfie #fashion blog #black tights #midi pleated skirt #pleated skirt #midi skirt and tights #skirt and tights #short sleeve shirt #short sleeve button down #faux snakeskin #patent leather mocs #patent leather loafers #tucked in shirt

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: My Fall Wardrobe Essentials

Pima cotton long-sleeve tees (I like the Supima ones from Everlane for every day)

Contour body suits (I like the Express Bodycon Compression line and Spanx bodysuits in vegan leather/silk)

Silk button downs

Structured cotton button-down

Cashmere sweaters (crewneck, turtleneck, polo neck, etc. – Everlane, Nadaam, and Cuyana are great affordable options)

Zippered knitwear (I like options from Pixie Market, Naadam, COS, Ganni, Helmut Lang, Nanushka, and more)

Black high-waisted tailored trousers (bootcut, flared, and straight leg)

Black high-waisted jeans (straight and bootcut for me!)

Elevated stretch pants (I like the Norma Kamali Boot Pant and Spanx Perfect Pant for this)

Cashmere trouser

Cashmere hoodie

Thick, well-structured black sweatshirt

High-waisted straight-leg leather pants

Long-sleeve black sweater dress

Maxi-length black satin slip dress

Leather/quilted/tweed mini skirt

Long knit skirt (love a co-ord top for this, too)

Perfectly-tailored longline, single-breasted black blazer

Tailored hourglass blazer

Leather blazer

Classic leather moto jacket

Cropped patent leather jacket

Lightweight wool/satin duster coat

Black cotton trench/leather trench coat

Black tweed jacket with elevated hardware

Structured black wool coat

Leather puff jacket

Minimalist white sneakers

Black block-heeled, sleek square-toed/pointy-toe boots

Modern black loafers

Croc-embossed black boot

Black moto/lace-up boot or minimalist platform boot

Stiletto heel, pointy toe black boot (one short and one knee high length to dress up any outfit)

Western-inspired boot

Sleek and sexy black pumps

Structured black tote/shoulder bag

Structured crossbody bag

Small shoulder bag

Novelty/fun top handle bag (beaded, croc-embossed, crystal-embellishments, etc.)

Seamless bras/underwear

Control-top black tights (sheer and opaque)

Comfortable white and black ankle/crew socks

A cashmere, silk, or faux fur everyday scarf

Fingerless gloves

Chunky chain necklaces/bracelets

Delicate gold and silver chains (necklaces and bracelets)

Mixed-metal rings

Diamond-encrusted & cocktail rings

Ear cuffs and threader earrings

High-waisted shapewear shorts

Cashmere or silk loungewear/pajamas

A lace teddy

Cozy slippers

#wardrobe staples #capsule wardrobe #fall wardrobe #fall outfits #personal branding #style tips #style inspiration #black outfit #outfit inspiration #wardrobe design #style inspo #fashion advice #dark femininity #dark feminine energy #femme fatale #brand personality #fashion blog #femmefatalevibe

[general-dar-benn]

✨RODARTE Flower-brooch puff-sleeve silk maxi dress

✨DORATEYMUR Harput white patent leather loafer

✨ GUCCI Women’s marmont flap black/gold small

#zawe ashton #zawe #rodarte #dorateymur #gucci #style #🩵 #🖤

[rugtopper]

CONFESSIONS OF A FETISH BARBER

BY RUGTOPPER

Sam picked up the telephone after it rang the second time.

“Adonis Hair Replacement Salon, Sam speaking.”

“Sam? This is Troy. How are you?”

“Troy! I’m fine. Good to hear from you. Why are you calling? Your regular appointment is still three weeks away.”

“I have finally decided to take your advice and change pieces. Is there room on your schedule to see me at 2:00 this afternoon? I’ll be through at the station by then.”

“Sure, Troy. I have an appointment at 1:00, but he is my last for the day. My afternoon is yours. I’ll see you at 2:00.”

Sam hung up the phone in the waiting room and went back into the styling room. He picked up a broom and finished cleaning the hair clippings on the floor. Sam had a very traditional barbershop right down to the black and white linoleum tiles on the floor. In the center of the room taking its pride of place was an enormous chrome barber’s chair with fire-engine red leather on the seat and back. This was the chair that Sam’s dad had used for nearly fifty years. This was the chair where Sam had his first haircut. But Sam didn’t have time to dwell on that. He had to finish cleaning up, have a small lunch, take care of his 1:00 appointment, and prepare for Troy. Troy Duncan. What a great guy. Everyone loved Troy. Everyone thought they knew Troy. He had been a fixture at the local TV station for nearly twenty years. Now he strictly did the morning and noon-time broadcasts, but was still a well-known local celebrity. “I wonder what made him decide to switch from a toupee to a full wig,” thought Sam. Troy Duncan had worn a toupee for nearly twenty-seven years. In fact, Sam’s dad had actually done the first fitting on Troy when he was only twenty-two years old. “That was just before Dad retired to Florida,” Sam said out loud to no one in particular. After Sam finished sweeping, he checked his own hair in the mirror before he went back out to the waiting room. Every silvery hair was in place. Of course it was; it never moved. It was made and styled that way. Still, before he left the room, he did give his hair a quick mist with wig hairspray. He knew Howard, his 1:00 appointment would notice. Howard noticed things like that. Howard was a relatively new type of client for Sam. In the last ten years, Sam had had an increase in clients who wore toupees or wigs. Among those were several who were a somewhat unusual because they really wanted to wear a toupee or a wig. In other words, they had no physical lack of hair precipitating the need to cover it up. Howard was one of those men.

As Sam was finishing his lunch at the reception desk, Howard walked in to the salon. He was early.

“Hi, Sam,” Howard said as he closed the office door behind him.

“I know I’m early. I'll sit over here while you finish your lunch.”

“Thanks, Howard. That would be great. I’ll be done in just a bit.”

Howard walked over to the sofa, tugged up his pants legs, and sat down. When he did this, he crossed his right leg over his left knee flashing a short jet-black sock, and the clip of his garter. Howard loved to do this. Sam chose to ignore it. Howard Gunson. Howard was only thirty-one, but he did everything he could to look like a man over sixty. Howard had on his usual barbershop attire. He was wearing hideous pale yellow beltless slacks, a thin-knit white short-sleeved dress shirt, and white patent leather loafers with a gold bar. This would have been marginally okay except that Howard was wearing an athletic undershirt which was clearly visible through the top shirt. Other undergarments were noticeable as well. When he sat down, Sam observed the knee-length boxer shorts with the tiny multi-colored diamonds underneath the beltless slacks. Also, the short dark socks held aloft by garters were clearly, but unnaturally outlined through the pants. Sam had given up trying to figure out why Howard wanted to look like this.

“Okay, Howard, I’m ready if you are.”

Howard came into the styling room.

“Howard, before we get started, don’t you think you’d better undress so we don’t have an accident like the last time?”

“Sure, Sam.”

Howard went to bathroom and undressed. When he returned, he was wearing only his undergarments. His tiny dick was already trying to poke itself out of the oversized boxer shorts that were hiding it. Howard walked across the room and got into the chair. As Sam put the cape around Howard’s neck, he looked at Howard’s hair. It either had to be the worst looking thing Sam had ever done for a client, or the best job Sam had ever done in making something nice look cheap. Howard’s toupee was coal black with a sheen.  It covered most of his head. There was a left-sided part, but it was only simulated. You couldn’t see the scalp at all. Sam called this type of part a “pillowed part” or a “carpet part.” Basically, it looked like where two pieces of carpet came together, like on a staircase. The base of the toupee was mostly mesh with just a strip around the circumference for tape. The front of the rug almost embarrassed Sam. There was no  lace-front hairline or anything fancy. This was old-school front under venting. Even at 100 yards, you knew this thing wasn’t real. Howard was sheepishly proud of this.

“Okay Howard, let’s get started.”

Sam put both of his hands on the base of Howard’s neck. Just above the neckline he felt for the plastic strip and loosened the tape. Howard moaned just a bit. Sam knew what was happening and stopped for just a moment to give Howard a chance to catch his breath. He put his hands at the base of Howard’s toupee and slowly peeled the toupee forward. As the toupee was removed, Howard moaned again and shot a tiny wad onto the underside of the cape.

“You know, Howard, if you were married, your wife would be so disappointed. We haven’t even started, and you’re already finished.” Sam laughed as he said this. Howard only gave an evil little smirk.

“Don’t ask me to explain it, Sam, I can’t. Just trim what I have and put me back together. I have to be at the newsstand at the airport by 3:00 this afternoon. I’m working a later shift today. You know how much I love working at the airport. It is the best place for rug spotting.”

This was something else Howard loved to do: look for toupees, and be spotted as well. Sam got the hot-lathered foam and put it on Howard’s stubble. He observed the flawless, but man-made Norwood seven horseshoe pattern on Howard’s head. With several quick strokes, Howard’s faint shadow of hair was gone. Sam trimmed the fringe with a four guard as Howard always requested. After this, Sam picked up Howard’s toupee, and placed it at his forehead. He slowly rounded it back into place. He did his best to comb the synthetic hair over the real, but too-short hair. This look made it even easier for it to be spotted.

“By the way, Howard, I hope that at your next appointment we can finally start on your laser hair removal.  It will make the mpb ring look more natural when you remove your toupee.  Now, up, out of the chair. Get dressed. I have another client coming at 2:00, and I need you to be gone.”

Howard got dressed, paid with a huge tip, and left. Sam swept up and waited for Troy.

Straight up 2:00, in walked Troy Duncan. To the unknowing, one might think he and Howard were alike. They both wore toupees and had the same fetish for undergarments, but that was where it ended. Troy was 48, handsome, fit, well-read, and a genuinely interesting person.

“Get in here, Troy. I did not expect to see you for three weeks much less get a call from you today.” Sam said this as he sat down on the sofa. “Sit down,” Sam said as he patted the sofa. Troy sat down and crossed his left leg over his right knee. Unlike Howard, he did not flash his garter clip even though he was always tempted to do so.

“Now Troy, why have you decided to go with a full wig? I’ve only been trying to get you to wear one for over a year.”

“Well Sam, I remember when you told me that I was losing more hair, that I was slowly but eventually going to move from a six to a seven on the Norwood scale.”

“Yes, and at that point you really need a custom-made piece. Granted, the stock pieces I get for you are good, but they won’t cover the baldness when you get to a seven,” Sam intoned.

“I know,” agreed Troy, “but my reason has less to do with a custom piece and more with the custom price attached to it.”

“You know I’d cut a deal for you. You are one of my most loyal clients . . . and most famous, well, even if no one knows that you are a client.”

“Well, I don't know about people not knowing, but I’m going to make the transition because of work.”

“Work?” Sam asked.

“Yes, work. You remember a while back I sent an audition tape to San Diego for that network job? Well, I finally heard from them yesterday. They went with Justin McKay.”

“Justin McKay? Wasn’t he that kid who interned for you a few years ago?”

“Eight years ago to be exact. Justin McKay interned for me and then the station manager actually hired him to be a researcher before he went to Atlanta. Anyway, when I found out about losing the job in San Diego, I decided just to stay here.”

“What do you mean stay here?”

“The station manager has been wanting me to sign a ten-year contract for over a year. I haven’t because I kept thinking I would move up in the market to a larger network. This was the fourth time I have been passed over. That is one of the things I hate most about news broadcasting: always having to look for the next market job. Anyway, when I signed yesterday, I just decided that now was the time. I have a worn a toupee since I was 22 years old. I just want something that's a lot easier to take care of.  I'm getting older.  It is time to graduate, so to speak, to a full wig.”

“I remember Dad telling me how nervous you where when you came in for that first fitting.”

“I was a wreck, mainly because I didn’t know what I was getting into. I really wasn’t that interested in wearing a toupee at that time.”

“Really, Troy, I didn’t know that. You seem so comfortable wearing one.”

“Your dad, and later on you, really helped me get comfortable wearing a toupee. My advisor was the one who really guided me to get one. He told me that if I wanted to move from behind the radio microphone to being in front of a camera, I needed a full head of hair. I didn’t think I was that bald, but I was lying to myself. By the time I decided to deal with my hair loss, I think I was almost a four on the Norwood scale with a lot of fuzz. Your dad just shaved me clean so I had a smooth surface for my first toupee. I can tell you I walked out of here with my head held high for the first time in nearly two years. When I made that first appearance for the campus news, I felt like a million bucks. I realized that I had been hiding under a silly plaid riding cap. Anyway, after I lost the job in San Diego, I signed the ten-year contract with the station. It is the same pay, but with lots of bonuses. Also, on the bright side, a full wig every two years costs far less than a toupee every six months.”

“I want to hear more about this Justin what’s-his-name. You said he interned with you?”

“Yes, about eight years ago. I guess the people in San Diego wanted someone younger than me. They can have him and his overly-permed hair.”

“Oh, my! Did you say it was Justin McKay?”

“Yes, what about him?”

“Now, I remember him. Troy, that’s not a perm.”

“What! You mean that awful hair is natural?”

“Only part of it,” Sam hinted.

“You mean Justin McKay wears a rug?”

You got it, Troy. He was one of my first fetish clients,” Sam confessed.

“Fetish clients? What on earth is that? What do they do, suck their toes or something disgusting like that?”

“Well, not exactly that. Nearly ten years ago, I started getting phone calls from men who wanted to be fitted for a toupee. It was only a few, but when they would show up for the consultation, I would discover that they had a full head of hair.”

“You mean these guys were not bald? They weren’t losing their hair at all?”

“No. They just wanted to wear a toupee.”

“I can’t imagine someone who had hair wanting to wear a toupee. I understand being bald and wanting to cover it by wearing a toupee, but to make yourself bald on purpose just to put on a toupee is a little too farfetched for me.”

“You would be surprised, Troy, just how many men actually want to do just that. My last client, just before you came today, is one of them. He is 31 and has worn a toupee on purpose since he was 25. Justin is the same way.”

“Tell me more about Justin and this other guy.”

“Let’s move to the studio so I can start on your new wig while we talk.”

“Okay,” Troy said, but neither of them moved from the sofa.

“Less than a month after you told me Justin had been hired as a researcher,” Sam continued, “I got a call from him. He told me that you had recommended me. He told me he wanted to be fitted for a toupee. I asked him how bald he was. He told me that I would need to remove a lot of hair in order to have a proper fit.”

“How did he find out I came here? Did he follow me? I know he was always asking me where I got my hair done and then he would correct himself by saying, ‘I mean. . cut.’ That always bothered me. Well, keep going.”

“So the day of the appointment came and Justin arrived on time. He had all this unruly hair. He also had a very expensive toupee in a box. He told me that he wanted to wear a toupee and that he had always wanted to wear a toupee. I told him that I just couldn’t wave a magic wand and make him bald. He got hard as a rock when I said that. I told him it would be unethical to make someone bald on purpose. I told him that he was being silly, that he didn’t need a toupee. He was not moved. He just kept begging. Finally, I told him to leave. I told him that I would think about it. He called me the next day crying. He told me that his therapist had suggested that he get a toupee to face his fears of going bald. I told him he wasn’t going bald. He said that he was. I asked for the name of his therapist. He wouldn’t give it, of course, because there wasn’t one. The day after the phone call, he showed up here in a baseball cap crying. He had shaved the top of his head. He was crying and begging me to fit him with the toupee. So, I did.”

“My God! I knew he was a little off the beam, but nothing like this. So, you fitted him with the toupee?”

“I had to. I couldn’t let him leave looking worse than Larry from the Three Stooges. It was awful. He had basically taken a beard trimmer and mowed down the middle of his head. I told him to get in the chair.”

“How did the fitting go?”

“The fitting was routine once I got his scalp prepared. He had buzzed himself to a Norwood four, but the toupee was sized for a five. After I shaped it to a level five, I was ready to shave the stubble. I got the hot-foamed lather and quickly removed all the stubble. At this point he was totally into the whole process. The boy had a ton of hair. When I turned him toward the mirror with his curly toupee setting there on its stand, he made the strangest sound. He actually shot a load in his pants. I wouldn’t let him get up. I made him sit there in all that goo while I finished. I got the toupee off the stand, put tape on the underside, and attached it to his head. The next bit took forever, and I do mean forever, over two hours. I hate working with curly hair. He kept telling me to keep his fringe longer. It really wasn’t all that long, but I did as he asked. It looked well blended, but I knew that without the toupee he was going to look like a clown. He ended up coming back every four weeks for a trim before he got that job in Atlanta. When he moved, that was the last time I saw him. Well, that is the whole saga of my first fetish client. I am sorry you lost the job to him. You are a great reporter.”

“Thanks, Sam. Can we start on my wig now? You can tell me about that other guy then. What’s his name?”

“Yes, we can start. You had better undress. These wigs are long and loaded with tons of hair. They make them that way. They come fuller than necessary. Anyway, the guy’s name is Howard. I’ll tell you about him when you get back from the bathroom.”

Troy got up and went to the bathroom to undress. He always did this whenever he had a new fitting. It was easier, cleaner, neater, and just more comfortable. As Troy walked across the room to the bathroom, he moved various items from his pants pockets to his suit-coat pockets. He also thought to himself, “How many times have I done this? How many toupees have I gotten since I was 21?” Today was something new for Troy. When he got into the bathroom, he removed his coat and hung it on one of the pegs inside the door. He closed the door and looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He loved how his tight athletic undershirt looked beneath his crisp white dress shirt. He removed his tie and hung it up. Off came the shirt and down came the pants. They slid off easily over his wing tips which he liked to keep on. Seeing himself in his tight undershirt tucked into his knee-length boxer shorts, thick-n-thin socks and garters, he gave himself a queer little smile. He said out loud to himself, “And now off goes the hair, old man.” Troy walked out of the bathroom, sat down in the barber’s chair. Sam put a fresh cape around his neck and slowly lifted the back of Troy’s toupee. Same removed it from front to back. The extent of Troy’s baldness was overwhelming to take in. Sam had been right. Troy was almost a full Norwood six. His peaks and his temples were completely gone.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“Sideburns as well,” Sam asked.

“Sideburns as well.  There is too much gray in them, and I never really liked them anyway. Shave it all. It will be easier in the long run.”

Sam turned on the clippers and removed Troy’s sideburns and all of his fringe. Next, he got the hot-foamed lather and the razor and removed the stubble. Suddenly, there sat Troy Duncan - Channel 14’s lead anchorman totally bald and slowly getting a massive erection.

“Oh, God! I knew this day might come, but I wasn’t really prepared for it. I’m totally and completely bald. I don’t believe it. I am completely bald.”

“Okay, Troy. Get over it. You’ve been bald most all of your adult life. Now, it is just a greater level of baldness. Welcome to my world," Sam said as he laughed.  Troy lied, as well.

Now Troy, I have two styles for you. There are four wigs, two in each style. One is a traditional left-sided part, just like the toupee you’ve been wearing for several years. The other style is slightly fuller with a casual, brushed-back look to it. I really think you should go with that. I think it looks better with your facial features. Also, with this youth-obsessed market, I think it will be more attractive. What do you think?”

“I think I need to go with the hipper, brushed-back look. I’m changing from a toupee to a wig. I might as well get a better looking style as well. I also want to stop talking about my hair so you can tell me about Howard and some of your other clients. Confession is good for the soul. Confess!”

Sam put the wig on Troy’s head and turned him toward the mirror.

“I’m not going to leave it like this of course. It will be over the ears and above the collar - very professional, but casual. Okay, now about Howard. I think you might know who he is. He has a newsstand at the airport. He runs an okay business, but with him, everything is about toupees. He loves spotting guys who wear them. He also loves being spotted. He really gets off if someone notices his rug. He actually gets sweaty palms if someone stares at his hairline while they are talking to him.”

“Really? I think I know who are talking about. Maybe I should chat him up sometime just to mess with him. He’s not dangerous, is he?”

“Howard! No, he’s harmless. If you do decide to chat with him, you might pull back your coat so he can see your undershirt. He has a real underwear fetish as well.”

“Should I flash him a glimpse of garter,” Troy asked as he kicked his gartered leg out from under the giant barber’s cape.

“No, Howard might soil himself right there in the airport,” Sam laughed.

“Okay, who else is there? Keep going.”

Same continued cutting and thinning and styling Troy's new wig as he proceeded to "confess" about more of his clients.

"Well, there is Larry, the used car salesman."

"Don't tell me.  He's overweight and wears a lot of gaudy jewelry?"

"No.  Larry hates jewelry.  Plus he is somewhat trim, even if it isn't totally natural."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I happened to notice that he looked like he had lost weight, so I complimented him.  He informed me that he got tired of dieting and had gotten one of those girdle shirts that flattens everything."

Troy laughed.  "So what about his hair?  Is he one of your fetish clients, too?"

"Yes.  He had always wanted to wear a rug, so he started tweezing his hair out.  However, he quickly discovered how tedious and painful that was.  He had me laser his hair off so he could permanently wear a hairpiece."

"You mean you destroyed his hair?  I didn't know you were licensed to do laser hair removal, Sam."

"I've been licensed to practice that for years.  Anyway, Larry had found this blond synthetic hairpiece online that he really liked.  His bio hair is almost white, and doesn't match the hairpiece at all.  Still Larry loves it and the attention he gets.  Anyway, I have had quite a few clients over the years who have had me do laser hair removal.  One of my clients is a security guard at one of the casinos here in Vegas."

"You mean some guy had all his hair lasered off?"

"Yes.  He said he was tired of shaving it all the time.  He's huge and muscular.  The look works for him.

"Okay, Troy.  I need to rinse this wig, remove it, and begin on the other one."

Sam rotated the barber's chair and lowered it.  He gingerly rinsed all the loose hair from Troy's new wig.  He raised the chair and gently applied a towel to Troy's head.  He took a blow dryer and began styling Troy's new wig.  He knew Troy wanted a hipper version of his old style, but he knew Troy's conservative tastes.  He styled it off the forehead, with an easy, brushed back look.  He turned the chair toward the mirror.

"So, what do you think, Troy?"

"It's perfect, Sam.  Just like what we have discussed a few times over the past year.  There is just enough up-sweep which I like, but not a retro pompadour.  Now, any more stories?  The confessional is still open."

Sam removed Troy's wig and placed it on a stand in front of the mirror next to the other, uncut model.  Suddenly Troy felt vulnerable, as he always did without his hair.  He shouldn't, but he did.  He had been bald for half his life, hiding it under a rug.  He liked to think he was fooling most of the people all of the time, but deep down, he knew most people strongly suspected that he wore a hairpiece.  Yes, this new wig was nice, but it was even more obvious than his toupee.  He knew he would get tons of junk emails commenting on his new look.  He didn't have any fringe in which to blend it, and now no sideburns.  Sam had done a great job thinning out the wig, but the temples were obviously taped to his now totally hairless scalp.  His fringe before had been thin and wispy.  He knew this fuller wig would look a lot better.  Sam put tape on the second wig and put it on Troy's totally bald head.  He liked the tight grip of the tape on his scalp.  Since that first day he had put on his new toupee in his dorm room, he had always enjoyed how it felt sitting on his bald head.

"Well, Troy," Sam said as he began cutting on Troy's spare wig.

"Well what, Sam?  Are you going to continue with the confessions?"

"Let me make a quick phone call, and then I'll give you an exclusive confession that will snap your garters."

Sam quickly returned a few minutes later with a smile on his face.

"So, what makes this next confession so much better than the others you have shared?"

"Well, this one is about me, Troy."

"You?  I thought you were naturally bald.  When I first came here all those years ago, you were already wearing a toupee.  If I remember correctly you're only four years older than me.  Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Troy.  I just turned 52.  And, yes, I was wearing a toupee when we first met, but it was partly due to my desire to be like my dad."

"I don't understand, Sam."

"You knew my dad along with two other barbers in town kept all the male stars and celebrities looking their best when they would perform at the casinos.  Whenever one of the barbers would order a new wig for a certain tipsy member of the Rat Pack, he would also order one for my dad.  My dad really liked that full style.  All the Hollywood stars had their own barbers or used Max Factor.  Here in the desert, if a man was going bald, he either went without hair or went with second best.  Anyway, I'm getting away from my story.  When I started working here, sweeping up after school as a teenager, I noticed that a lot of my dad's customers were uncomfortable with me around because I had a full head of hair.  One day after work I asked my dad if I embarrassed him because I didn't wear a hairpiece like he did.  That really upset him because he said that I could never embarrass him.  That's when I told him that I really wanted to wear a toupee like he did.  He said that I was being silly.  He said there was no way he would let me wear one when I didn't need to wear one.  I asked him if he would let me wear one if I did need one.  He said he would.  So, I took the clippers and gave myself a tiny bald spot.  He couldn't believe I did it.  He made me wait until the next day to fit me with a little slider that he had in a drawer."

"A slider?  What's that?"

"Oh, that is a little piece for the crown area.  It can be worn with clips or glue."

"So, you're telling me that you had a toupee fetish just like some of your clients?"

"Yes, Troy, I am.  I started wearing a rug when I was still in high school.  By the time I graduated and went to beauty school, I was a full Norwood five."

"What did your friends at school think?"

"Those that knew, thought that my dad made me wear one for his business.  I couldn't let people think my dad was that cruel.  I told them that I was losing my hair and didn't want to be bald.  Remember Troy, this is Los Vegas.  Everyone cares about how they look.  Half the girls in my graduating class wore extra padding in their bras!"

As Sam was finishing his confession to Troy, the chime on the front door rang.

"I thought I was your last client, Sam.  I can't let anyone see me.  The public may suspect that I wear a hairpiece, but I don't want them to have a face-to-face confirmation."

"He's not coming in here, Troy.  Let me rinse and style this wig while I explain.  Now, he is a long-time client, but he's not here for an appointment.  You see, I have a second confession to make.  You probably don't remember Sean Dugan.  He was a professional bodybuilder and model, but after a car accident, he was working part-time as a security guard at your station when you were having all those issues with Justin.  He found out that Justin was the one who kept sabotaging your network chances.

Sam turned Troy around in the chair, rinsed all the loose hair from the spare wig, and then began styling it like he had the first one.

"Troy, Sean, was the one who brought Justin here.  He hated how Justin would talk about you behind your back at the station.  Sean hated the snide comments Justin made about your toupee.  Sean put a stop to it by convincing me to teach Justin a lesson with my laser.  He didn't have to work very hard."

Troy got up out of the chair, took off the barber's cape, and walked into the lobby.  He didn't say anything.  He just walked up to Sean, softly put both hands on his face, and kissed him the way he had always dreamed of years ago when he would see him at the station.

After that long, passionate kiss Sean just looked down at Troy Duncan's old-fashioned undergarments and smiled.  Troy just smiled as he glanced up at Sean's light cocoa colored toupee.

Later, the two of them went out to eat, but ended up back at Troy's condo for dessert and more.

(You can fill in the rest!)

#cheap toupee #hair replacement for men #male transformation #toupee for men #voluntary bald fringe #men's tank tops #men in boxers #vintagemen #men's sock garters #men's wigs #a-shirt #boxer shorts #sock garters #traditional men #becoming traditional

[sincerelylea]

suggestive mdni

sevika 7:38 pm filthy.

she wore a cropped blouse, sleeveless and lacy. it was lower cut than normal, and the gold chain adorned her chest like a charm. her slacks were pleated and cinched with a leather belt with a large gold buckle in the middle, patent leather loafers, and a slim fitting blazer rolled at the sleeves to expose the chunky watch and many rings she wore almost daily. her thick frame was accentuated beneath her clothes, and there you were, sitting pretty and grasping her arm - tiny dress barely covering the tops of your thighs, heels and painted nails, a jeweled necklace hanging from your neck with the letter “S” on it. on your arms sat prada, gucci, and louis vuitton bags - a few passerbys watched as you walked down the mall walkways. rich women, holding their husband’s hands with giant diamonds sitting on their ring fingers. bodies clad in alexander mcqueen and versace. this is how you spent your saturdays, on her arm doing your weekly shopping. her scent was intoxicating, a musky hint of smoke and ginger perfume. of all the beautiful women it was you on her arm, and the priveledge made you smile at the thought. your feet stall at the entrance of your favorite body care store, sevika’s brow raising as your eyes lit up at the sight.

“five minutes.” she cuts her eyes at you for a moment before letting you drag her in. the store smells richly of organic goods, sweet perfumes, and floral musks. nearly every product was to die for and you pulled sevika by the hand to nearly every corner of the shop. “how do you like this?” you ask, holding up a small black jar of a sweet salve. she leans down a bit, brow quirking, she hums in response and you know it’s been over 5 minutes but the soft spot you knew existed in sevika made it difficult for her to say no to you. you shrug off the side eyes and curious glances your way, instead staying close to sevika’s side as you gather a basketful of goodies. as you were checking out sevika hands over a gourmet slice of soap - leaning into your ear with a grip on your waist. “for when we get home.”

#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane #arcane x reader #sevika x reader #arcane x you #sevika x you #arcane x y/n #sevika x y/n #sevika blurb #sevika headcanon #sevika fluff #arcane blurb #arcane headcanon #arcane fluff

[fiendishartist2]

the other half i guess i'm giving to you– mp100

"Oi, Mob. Does this photo still look haunted to you?"

Reigen lazily called to his apprentice across their barebones office. They had only seriously been in business for a few months– a few months longer than Reigen ever imagined he would keep this up. But here he was, scuffed loafers propped up on his cheap desk, a bootlegged copy of Photoshop on his laptop balanced on his leg. He spared a glance to the boy single handedly keeping this business going; sure Reigen pulled his weight, but if Mob didn't continue to show up at the office every day, Reigen would be a private investigator by now. He wasn't sure how he felt about this outcome yet.

"Mob?" Reigen huffed, looking at his apprentice at his "desk" (he was 11, he didn't need a real desk, Reigen told himself. The plywood box covered in his mom's old tablecloth the kid sat at had nothing to do with Reigen's empty bank account) where Mob was fast asleep, his cheek squished against its surface. He trotted up to Mob, leaning down dramatically and snapping his fingers. Mob lifted his head, sleepily propping it up on his folded arms. He sniffled.

"Mmmph?" he mumbled. He cracked open one eye to look at his mentor. Reigen crossed his arms and shot him an annoyed look.

"Is this really a good time for a nap, Mob?" Mob responded with a long yawn. Reigen's eye twitched.

"Sorry, shishou. It won't happen again." Reigen pointed at him, levelling him a scowl.

"You're damn right it won't. I can't pay you for sleeping on the job." As Reigen strutted back to his desk, clicking his heels the whole way to make his point, he thought he heard a low, confused mutter of '...pay?'.

A couple minutes passed when Reigen heard a solid 'thunk' come from Mob's desk. He looked up only to see his mop of black hair splayed on the desk as his apprentice, once again, slept on the job. Reigen hummed, this was starting to get ridiculous. Mob wasn't one to shirk his responsibilities; actually he was dedicated to his work to an almost uncomfortable degree. Mob showed up at the office exactly 25 minutes after his school let out: the amount of time it took him to walk there. He tended to look at Reigen like he hung the moon, especially when he came up with some of his patented 'calm down or inspire Mob' lectures. He never acted disrespectful or sceptical or even bored when he was with Reigen. Something was up and Reigen was just curious enough to want to get to the bottom of it.

Reigen squatted in front of Mob's short desk, gently shaking him awake. He woke with a start.

Mob's eyes were red rimmed and puffy; his face flushed a sickly red and his nose dripped a steady stream of snot. Reigen held back a gag at the sight. Part of him regretted choosing to hire an 11 year old.

"Ah! I fell asleep again!" Mob's scratchy voice squeaked. He broke out into a nasty coughing fit. Once it was over and Reigen was sure Mob was done spewing his kid germs everywhere, he felt Mob's forehead with the back of his hand. Mob leaned in subtly to his cold hand, in contrast to his burning skin.

"Shit- don't repeat that." Reigen hissed. He stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose. What if a client comes in? He contemplated, I can't take a sick kid to an exorcism. He considered just sending Mob home but one look at the boy shot that idea down. He was tipping forward in his stool, just barely keeping consciousness. Not to mention how he had already passed out sitting up twice; Reigen did not trust him to get home safely by himself. And Reigen definitely didn't want to walk the boy home himself, he wasn't sure if the kid's parents knew he was Reigen's apprentice. He didn't even know if they knew Mob was psychic. Those were two conversations Reigen hoped he would never have.

Another, more appealing, thought popped into Reigen's mind. What if he just dealt with it here? He was sure there was a corner store just around the block and they definitely (probably) had cold medicine he could pick up for Mob. Then, Mob could just nap it off and be good as new before any clients came in.

Reigen smirked at his perfect plan. With a flourish, he pointed at his teetering apprentice.

"Get up, Mob! We're going shopping!" His glinting smile faltered as Mob struggled to get off of his wobbly stool. He stood in front of his mentor, swaying in place, wheezing and sniffling like just standing was a Herculean task. Reigen realised this might be harder than he thought. No problem, he scoffed, Mob's just a tiny kid, I can totally carry him there.

After a bit of contemplation, Reigen scooped up Mob, tucking him under his arm and holding him with the grace you would give to a sack of potatoes. The boy went completely slack, probably already asleep again, glad to be off his feet.

Reigen set out for the store, once again feeling great about this plan.

--------------------------------------------------

Reigen no longer felt great about this plan.

He was mistaken about the distance between the office and the nearest corner store. It was not 'right around the block' like he boasted– instead, Reigen had to lug around Mob for several blocks, nearly dropping the boy more times than he'd like to admit.

He was also mistaken that he was strong enough to carry around an 11 year old boy; Mob looked deceptively small, but he had the density of a bag of bricks. Or maybe Reigen was just out of shape. Either way, by the time they made it to the store, Reigen arrived walking tipped to one side, sweaty and tired. He just barely kept his grip on the boy fast asleep at his hip. His only saving grace was that Mob slept like the dead- not once did he wake up, no matter how many close calls there were involving his head and the sidewalk.

Reigen shakily stumbled into the corner store. He bodily shoved the door open with all of his weight. He heaved Mob further under his arm, using the back of his other hand to wipe the sweat that was collecting on his forehead. All at once, he collapsed against the check out, panting from exhaustion.

The woman behind the counter eyed him cautiously, but still smiled politely, trying to give him her best 'I'm so uncomfortable but I still have to be nice to the customers' face. Reigen could barely care at this point; people looked at him weirdly all the time– he was a weird guy after all– and in this circumstance he was way too tired to bother dialling it back.

"1-" he wheezed, "1 bottle of cold medicine," he adjusted a slightly snoring, congested Mob under his arm, "Kids medicine, please." He added.

The cashier looked down at Mob with wide, confused eyes. She hesitated, staring at the top of his black bowl cut before her gaze flicked to Reigen, who was shooting her a manic grin he probably thought was reassuring. She shook her head as she turned around and picked out a random brand of medicine from the shelf behind the counter. Without even asking if this was the brand he wanted, she rang it up. Judging by her half-lidded, glazed over expression, she never intended on asking anyways. Reigen didn't mind, he just wanted to get the hell out of here and relax at his desk.

Reigen leaned Mob against his hip, digging around in his suit pockets for his thin wallet. He procured the sorry excuse for a wallet triumphantly, face glowing with success. That is, until he realised he would have to get out his money single handedly. He glanced between his two occupied hands before resigning to opening his wallet with his teeth.

In this delicate balancing act, Reigen hadn't noticed his hold on his apprentice slipping, until a soft thump was heard by his feet. A still sleeping Mob landed face down on the dirty carpet beneath their feet. Reigen almost screamed.

"Sir. Are you going to pay or not?" the cashier's monotone voice drolled, giving away no emotion except contempt.

"Y-yes!" Reigen yelped. Turning over his wallet above the counter, he shook out his loose change. He leaned down to pick up Mob again, praying to anyone who was listening that he didn't break his nose or anything in the fall.

Reigen faltered. Instead of wrapping an arm around his middle, he lifted Mob up by his underarms. He hauled the boy up, resting his head on his padded shoulder. He leaned the boy on his hip, with an arm supporting him under his legs.

He grabbed the bottle of cold medicine just in time for the cashier to state the measly 200 yen he gave her wasn't enough. Conveniently, he didn't hear her as he sped out of the store with his head ducked down– just in case they had any cameras. For privacy's sake, of course.

He walked (ran) out into the orange glow of the late afternoon.

--------------------------------------------------

Mob was dumped into the faux leather seat of Reigen's desk. Reigen slumped, his arms trembling from use as he slumped against his desk.

Mob stirred in his seat. He yawned, breaking into another coughing fit, drier and rougher than the last. Reigen remembered why he set this whole plan into motion in the first place.

Mob wiped his tired eyes, "...Shishou?" He yawned again, "Why is there dirt on my face…?" Reigen coughed, covering an embarrassed squeak.

"No time to think about that, Mob!" Reigen declared with confidence, in direct contrast to his appearance; he was leaning against his desk, the arm propping him up visibly shaking. He struggled to lift himself onto his desk, but after a few attempts, he was finally off of his feet. He scooted over so that he sat in front of his apprentice. Shooting a self-satisfied smile, Reigen smoothed down his wrinkled suit and resumed his air of not-quite professionalism.

"You're very sick, but no need to worry! I've got just the thing to help! Now where did I put that…" Mob's feverish brain was sluggish and he struggled to keep up with his mentor's conversational pace. Well, more than usual.

Reigen brandished the half-stolen cold medicine, holding it up for Mob to admire. Once Mob hummed a tiny note of approval, he went searching in his desk drawers for a teaspoon. After a few minutes of rummaging, he procured one from the depths of his desk. He furiously wiped the suspicious unknown grime from its surface on his suit jacket. Mob wrinkled his nose at it; he rubbed his nose in confusion when it twinged with pain.

Reigen read the label carefully, before pouring out a single dose of sticky red medicine in the teaspoon of dubious cleanliness. Mob took the medicine without protest, however as soon as he tasted its fake cherry flavour, the paperwork cluttered on Reigen's desk flew across the room, like they had been picked up by a stray breeze. Reigen sighed– crisis flawlessly averted.

"Alright, that should do it." Reigen set down the spoon and bottle, "You rest up and let the medicine take effect."

"But, Master, it's almost dark," he pointed to the window behind him, "I sh-" he yawned, "Should be home by now." A bead of sweat rolled down Reigen's forehead.

"Y-you should be home?" Mob nodded heavily. But he's still sick– he's dozing off mid-conversation! I can't send him home like this! Horror dawned on Reigen; Oh my god, I'm going to have to call his parents. One look at Mob– already curled up and drooling in his sleep– and Reigen's resolve melted away. He sighed in resignation and drew out his phone from his pocket. Today had ground him down and he was finally ready to let his delusional plan die out.

Reluctantly, he flipped open his phone, fingers hovering over the number pad.

"Mob?" He started digging his own grave, "What's your parents' number?" Mob rattled off a phone number he was probably taught to memorise. Reigen punched it in, sucking in a sharp breath as it rang once, then twice– then with a click, a woman was talking.

"Hello? Who is this?" Reigen cleared his throat, voice cracking.

"H-hello Mrs. Kageyama! This- this is Reigen Arataka of Spirit's and Such Consultation-" He was cut off by a gasp.

"Oh! You must be the nice man Shigeo spends his afternoons working for! I don't think we've properly met before." Her words stopped Reigen dead in his tracks. You know about me?? He thought.

"Y-you know about me?" His big mouth supplied. Despite his growing embarrassment, Mrs. Kageyama just chuckled.

"Of course I do, little Shige talks about you all the time!" He looked down at the boy comfortable enough in his office to nap in his chair. He was softly snoring.

"He does…?" Reigen said in a small voice.

"Y'know," Mrs. Kageyama continued, "that boy just loves you to death. It's astounding actually," her voice turned incredulous, "Shige usually has so much trouble connecting with people. But he talks about you like you're his best friend."

Her words were materialising and tying a very complicated, very impressive knot around his heart. He could cry if he wasn't so focused on seeming like a responsible adult to Mob's parents.

"Actually, I was calling about your son." That sentence made him feel old. He shuddered.

"Oh no..." She sighed, sounding resigned, "Is he acting out with those abilities of his again? I promise we can pay for any damage he caused-" Reigen choked back a surprised noise. So she knew about her son's psychic powers? That definitely made this easier.

"No, he's very well behaved!" Reigen hastily corrected, "I was just calling to tell you he might not be home on time. He seems to have come down with a nasty cold." He leaned back, crossing his legs and getting more comfortable.

"I gave him some medicine, but he's napping. He's so tired, I don't think I can let him walk home in this state."

Mob's mother hummed sympathetically, "Poor little Shige... He's been off all week, but we had no idea he was sick! Don't worry yourself with him any more, we can come pick him up right away." Reigen felt ice cold dread wash over him. They're coming here?! I have to meet both of them, in person? I'm so screwed, he screamed internally.

"Sounds great! I can finally meet the people who raised such a nice boy like M- uh, Shigeo!" He caught his slip up just in time. He couldn't let them know he had such a demeaning nickname for their son, no matter how endearing he now found it. Mrs. Kageyama chuckled again.

"Oh stop it, we'll be over in a few." Reigen hummed his goodbyes with carefully practised sweetness, just barely keeping his calm. As soon as he snapped his phone shut, he melted into a sweaty puddle.

"Okay! This is fine!" He jumped off of his desk, pacing around the room.

"I can do this- all I have to do is convince Mob's parents I'm a good mentor. I trick Mob into thinking that every day!" He stopped, "But I've only had to trick Mob. What if they see right through me?!"

He whirled around and threw open his drawers, digging around desperately for stray coins. The racket he was creating woke Mob.

"Here!" Reigen slapped 300 yen into Mob's palm. He blinked at it sluggishly, "Take this and tell your parents I pay you 300 yen every day!" Reigen took him by the shoulders and shook him around a little.

"You got that, Mob?" Mob just nodded, mostly to appease Reigen so he would stop shaking him. He was dizzy enough as it was; he didn't need to add 'throwing up onto his shishou's shoes' to the list of mortifying things he did today.

Reigen startled at the sound of a car pulling up to the curb outside. He sprung up, smoothing down his dirty blond hair and fixing his crumpled suit (although there was nothing he could do about the faint sweat stains…). Looking at least a little more presentable in his thrifted suit and worn-out shoes, Reigen let the Kageyamas in with a polite smile.

As they came into the office, Reigen greeted them with the same sweetness he practised over the phone, only faltering when he noticed a mop of unruly black hair trailing behind the two parents. Mob had never mentioned having any siblings.

The boy was small but just a bit taller than Mob. He had the same straight black hair, but instead of falling into a neat bowlcut, it stuck up in untamed spikes. His face was sharper than Mob's; higher cheekbones, a pointier chin, sharper dark eyes. Still, he had the same round, pinchable cheeks as his brother. Unlike Mob's constant blank expression, the younger boy looked outwardly unamused by his office. Reigen's smile strained.

"Hi!" Reigen all but shouted, "So nice to meet you all, I'm Shigeo's mentor, Reigen Arataka!" He decided to leave out the whole 'greatest psychic of the 21st century' thing; the Kageyamas didn't look like the gullible type to appreciate his eccentricities. Especially considering the way Mob's younger brother was prodding at the things in his office with a disinterested scowl.

Mr. Kageyama shook Reigen's hand firmly, shooting him a wide grin, "Hey there! So you're the man whose been training our little Shige." He took a look around the office, eyeing the posters plastered on the walls. His searching halted at the child's drawings pinned up behind Reigen's desk, "Nice to know he's in good hands." Reigen fought back a flattered giggle, flapping his hand dismissively at the statement.

Mrs. Kageyama busied herself with checking on Mob while her husband sized up Reigen. She brushed back his bangs and felt his forehead, confirming Reigen's assumption that Mob was sick with a bad cold. She scooped her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As she inspected the cold medicine Reigen gave to Mob, she nudged her youngest to say hello to Reigen.

The boy shuffled over to him. Reigen felt an aggressive tug on his pant leg, looking down from his conversation with Mr. Kageyama to the boy trying to get his attention. He squatted down and smiled at him.

"What's up, kiddo?" Despite being put off by the boy's intelligent eyes searching him with an unprecedented amount of suspicion, Reigen reached out a hand to pat the top of his head like he would with Mob.

"Hey!" Reigen reeled back, cradling his hand away from the youngest Kageyama. He hoped the amount of restraint he held to not punt the little shit that just tried to bite him couldn't be seen on his face. Through gritted teeth, he tried to laugh it off.

"Well, you're quite the spirited little-" he coughed, "-young man, huh?" Mrs. Kageyama looked mortified, while her husband just laughed.

"Oh my- Ritsu! You apologise to Mr. Reigen right now!" He didn't even look remorseful.

"No, no, it's alright!" Reigen smirked at the boy. He could use this opportunity to look even more mature in front of the Kageyama parents, "I understand that little Ritsu doesn't want his hair messed with." The boy looked about ready to tackle him.

"You're much too nice, Mr. Reigen." She shook her head disapprovingly.

"Please, just call me Reigen. I hardly think of myself as 'Mr. Reigen'." That one was true; Reigen didn't like to be overly formal with anyone. He never felt like he was deserving of such a stuffy, mature honorific. Much less in front of his apprentice's parents, nearly 15 years his senior. The only person he kept titles like that up with was Mob– and that was mostly because the boy insisted on it.

"Who knows," he continued good naturedly, "If Shigeo continues as my apprentice, we might be seeing much more of each other." He pitched forwards a little as Mr. Kageyama clapped his shoulder.

"If you're free tonight, we'd be happy to have you over for dinner."

Reigen thought of his small, dark apartment; he probably hadn't had a home cooked meal since he moved out of his parents' place years ago. He beamed at his guests, the first real smile he had worn all day.

"O-of course! That sounds great!" His barely controlled joy must have shown because Ritsu rolled his eyes like it was the most pathetic thing he had ever seen.

And so, Reigen found himself having the best meal of his adult life, surrounded by the family of his young apprentice. It wasn't the (amazing) food (that he gratefully accepted leftovers of, by the way), or even the free ride home afterwards that made the evening great; it was the company. For the first time in a long time, Reigen spent a significant amount of time with people who cared about him– people who actually felt like his friends. It was perfect; even if, halfway through dinner, Mob passed out face first into his food.

That night, Reigen went home to an apartment that felt a little warmer, a little less empty, and a little less lonely.

#not too in love with the writinf style of this one since its a little older. but i do think my characterizations of reigen and mob are good #so im happy with it :) plus i think its pretty funny #just some nice precanon fluff what else can you ask for #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #my fic #reigen arataka #shigeo kageyama #ritsu kageyama #their parents are here but they dont have names so </3 #baby mob #my boy T_T #i love you reigen <3 most 20 smth year old alive

[voxiiferous]

Vox's Definitive Ranking on Dress Shoes!

This is going under a read-more because there's So Many of them.

Note, I am not making a distinction between Oxfords, Brogues, and Derby shoes, they're slight variants on what is otherwise the same theme.

Classic Lace-Up Oxfords

Whole cut Oxfords: 2/10

They're not the worst. He needs that to be said, they're a perfectly... serviceable shoe. They're just hideous. The lack of tongue, the lack of decorations. Unforgiveable.

Plain toe Oxfords: 4/10

Immediately worlds better. Still not perfect, but he would get those over the whole cut any day.

Cap-toe Oxfords: 5.5/10

They're better than the others... unfortunately he doesn't like the cap toe. They're just a straight line, no. It looks like you ran out of shoe and had to make due.

Wing-tip Oxfords (one colour): 9/10

A pinnacle of shoe design. No notes, the perforations, the shape in the embellishments, he's got multiple in his closet, they're his go to shoe design.

Wing-tip Oxfords (duo/two-tone): 10/10.

there's a ton of slight variants in where the colour can go, and he loves them all. They're what he wore the most of in life, though they've gone out of style since. While he doesn't wear the two-tone ones as much anymore, he still has several pairs in his closet.

Slip On Loafers

Penny loafers: 6/10

They're fine? Depending on the look they work. He likes the slight decoration on them.

Bit loafers: 7/10

Better than the penny loafers. He's seen ones with more variant in material choices, that makes them more interestingly duo-tone and those would score higher, closer to a 7.5 or an 8.

Tassle loafer: 3/10

No, just no. Get them away from him, cut them off.

Kiltie loafers: 2/10

They're even worse than the previous. Even the two tone variants cannot save these. They're like an old man made his slippers into his day wear. Burn them with fire.

Black Tie

Opera pump: 3.5/10

They're there? There's not enough to be offended by, but it sure comes close some days. Has no notes only because he can't think of how to fix it.

Ribbon opera pumps: 2/10

You'd think this is better than the other variants but NOPE!!! You will never catch him in these. He doesn't care that they seem more feminine, he just hates them. He doesn't care its supposedly a staple.

He's not reranking the Oxfords. If he needs a black tie shoe its those.

Boots

Chelsea: 1/10

He's opposed to their classification as a dress shoe at all. Which honestly is his problem with most of this category. He wants to go to a business meeting not on a hiking trip, or hipster cafe.

Chukka boots: 4/10

They're on thin ice. They almost get to count. Some of them are better than others, but he can't see why you'd ever go for these and not any of the much better options.

Cap-toe boots: 5/10

A pass! These are clearly formal wear... he still think you should just get a normal shoe, and he still doesn't like the cap toe style but they're acceptable. He doesn't own any, but he might not mock you if you do.

Wing-tip boots: 6/10

The closest a boot is getting to winning him over. They're good for shorter pants, for longer ones. He probably owns a pair, they're good for dealing with Alastor. But even his beloved wingtips aren't enough to fully get him on board.

Monk boots: 1/10

He's a business man not a caricature of a witch. Oh you want him to get on a broom and cackle? No, fuck you, and fuck these shoes too.

Monk Straps

Single: 5/10

He's seen jazzed up versions that tend towards duo-tone and more jazzed up wingtips and those are better.

Double: 3/10

Usually he's all for adding more decoration to shoes but these do it badly. The gap between the buckles, the shape, no. It takes an already ish shoe and makes it bad.

Tripple strap: 5/10

Fixes his problem with the two-strap variant, but not enough to net it more than a pass. Just go for a laced version, we're all adults here, you don't need the patent leather version of a velcro shoe.

#he has other thoughts regarding materials #but those could go in another post! #the takeaway if wingtips and multicolour are both good #if out of style #when and if they come back he's going to rock them once again #the one colours do go with more outfits though #*personnel file (hc) #Vox os at his most catty bitchy gay in terms of sartorial choices

[gyuyoungarchives]

Gucci's Creative Director, Sabato de Sarno, expressed 'an opportunity to fall in love with fashion again' through the 2024 S/S women's collection 'Gucci Ancora'. Hoodies with simple and concise silhouettes, patent leather shorts in Gucci Ancora color, and thick platform loafers indicate that this collection starts from everyone's wardrobe. The white bag is the 'Gucci Diana' bag.

Sabato de Sarno focuses on the essence of Gucci through the form and proportions of clothing.

The pink jacket and shorts, featuring restrained tailoring, are the result of Sabato de Sarno being greatly influenced by Tom Ford's Gucci collections. The white bag, accentuated by Gucci's signature 'web' strap, is a 'mini shoulder' bag.

The simplicity is evident in the double-breasted wool tailoring long coat and the white cashmere silk tank top. Both the outfit and accessories are by Gucci.

The neon-colored coat adorned with metal fringe, patent leather shorts in 'Gucci Ancora' colour, and the white 'Gucci Bamboo 1947' bag harmonize beautifully.

The thin knit material that closely reveals the body's shape, the daringly slit skirt, and the pointed stiletto heels define Sabato de Sarno's sensuality.

The burgundy colour of 'Gucci Ancora' signifies the joy and passion of life, provocation, and confidence, and it is the core colour that runs through Sabato de Sarno's Gucci. The black patent material bag, featuring an embossed logo, is the 'Gucci Bamboo 1947' bag.

📷 Park Gyuyoung x Gucci

Vogue Korea, March 2024

#park gyu young #park gyuyoung #gucci #vogue korea

[dannnation]

#loafers #patent #patent shoes #women shoes #patent loafers #platform #platform loafers #platform shoes #black patent loafers

[platanarium]

#ootd #outfit #mirror selfie #fashion blog #black jeans #orange sweater #turtleneck sweater #tweed jacket #patent leather loafers

[doll-collecting-aerialist]

Theoretical Mix and Match Time!!- 50’s Diner Inspired Set

In this here post, I will continue to make a case as to why AG SHOULD HIRE ME. I mean- I like making theoretical mix and matches. Last time I made a neutral coloured autumn set. This set is way different however, as its main colours are pink and black with a bit of brown and baby blue.

These would be the main “statement” pieces. We have…

Cutie-mobile Skater Dress

Chic Black Sailor Dress

Lots of Ruffles Midi Skirt

Dots to Hearts Jeans

These would be the shirts (plus two more coming up). There’s a lot- I know- but the black shirts would be sold together, as would the two pink shirts. The blouse and red sweater would be sold together.

Floral Fun Short Sleeve Blouse

Beforever-Inspired Long Sleeve Tee

Berry Red Argyle Sweater

Black to Basics Tee and Tank

Cute in Houndstooth Sweater Vest

Creamy Frosting Blouse

Now we’re getting to accessories!!

Don’t be Blue! Collared Tank

Pretty Plaid Shirt

Essential Leggings and Socks Set

Melty Icecream Bag

Pink and Blue Checked Neck Tie

Locket and Icecream Necklace Set

And of course, we aren’t about that tetanus life, so our dolls have to have shoes!!

Pink Patent Fringe Loafers

Reach for Gold Ballet Flats

#american girl doll #dolls #ag #mix n match #dollblr #ag dolls #pleasant company #doll collector #doll photography #AG fashion edit #American girl fashion edit #truly me #Mattel #hire me Mattel

[swiftdupes]

taylor out and about in new york city

june 29, 2023

loafers

madelyn in black patent from steve madden // $99.95

#taylor swift #new york city #candid #midnights #speak now (taylor's version) #june 2023

[silkchifffon]

Well I only had to go to six stores but I found perfect black patent lug sole platform loafers.

[eleanorcalderfashionarchive]

Eleanor Calder | random bits

Public Desire Heartbeat White Patent PU Chunky Square Toe Platform Block Knee High Boots

— SOLDOUT

Valentino Rockstud Leather Combat Boot in Black

— SOLDOUT

Dolce & Gabbana DG2242 Sunglasses

— £224 / $317

Zara Flat Lug Sole Loafers

— SOLDOUT

Zara Pleated Shorts

— SOLDOUT

Fendi FF0354 Glasses in Gold

—£495 / $385

Gym+Coffee Cloud Beanie

— €17 / $18

Le Specs ‘Love Train’ Sunglasses

— SOLDOUT

#eleanor calder #eleanorcalderfashionarchive

[evilaccountant]

Ok Bruce's turn :)

1. What is the character’s go-to drink order? Vitamin water or water with a vitamin tablet. Sometimes he'll have a green smoothie but he hates the taste and texture, he's just trying to convince himself that he likes them. He doesn't drink very often as he doesn't like feeling out of it. He likes being in full control of himself, that's why he started learning to fight. He likes a expresso martini if he's at an event or an old fashioned if it's been an especially shitty day.

2. What is their grooming routine? In the early days he didn't have one, barely able to wash his hair, let alone keep himself tidy. After training and becoming the batman though? Meticulous. He starts with a cold shower, karma soap from lush, fancy shampoo, followed by a face moisturiser and a sandalwood body lotion. He shaves most weeks, gets a haircut once every 3 weeks and sometimes treats himself by painting his nails.

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? It's probably a tie between the Batmobile, restoring his gothic home (it started falling apart after his parents died as Bruce neglected it whilst grieving) and charitable donations. Although he hates being in public he's slowly getting better at masking and even manages to go to one or two charity galas per year (even if he is a total wallflower). Working on the Batmobile has been his pet project for years and he's spent a LOT of money perfecting it. He hyper focuses for hours working on it, to the point where Alfred has to bring him meals. Every little bit must be perfect and Bruce has made an absolutely perfect beast of a car.

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos? He has abundant scars from fighting. Mainly crime fighting. Cuts from bladed weapons, one or two bullet wounds. His hands are cut up from grabbing a sword by the blade once. He's done everything he can to avoid taking blows to the face in an attempt to make sure no one notices that Bruce Wayne and batman have the same face. This has left every other part of his body to take the hits and it shows. I don't think he'd have any tattoos, if only to make his identity less identifiable.

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? He obviously cried endlessly after his parents death and keeps crying when the mood strikes. He has ptsd and has a variety of triggers but has managed to squash his responses until he can hide away. He sometimes goes quiet mid conversation and just leaves, which hasn't helped his recluse status. He cries when he has panic attacks too. They still happen, just less frequently.

6. Describe the shoes they’re wearing. Patent leather doc martens when he's working in the batcave. He wears tidy black leather loafers when out as a civilian. They're practically brand new, he keeps a few pairs of tidy shoes in rotation. People who pay close attention would notice that he wears them in the same order (loafers, brogues, Chelsea boots) every time because he can't be bothered choosing shoes unless it's a special event. So far only 2 people have noticed.

7. Describe the place where they sleep. A four poster king sized bed made of dark pine, with a deep red velvet canopy. It's warm and cozy with plush pillows and a heavy duvet. The sheets are black cotton with a decorative pattern embroidered on the outside. The room itself is tastefully decorated but sparse, a walk in wardrobe and en-suite on one side of the room and a dark pine vanity and chest of drawers by the window. Although the windows are large, they're usually covered by blackout blinds so bruce can sleep during the day. He sleeps a lot at his desk in the batcave though, especially whilst working a case.

8. What is their favorite holiday? Bruce loves Halloween, it gives him a chance to blend into the crowds and feel normal. He sneaks into parties and wanders through the streets all day and just relaxes for a while. Later in his career as batman he also doesn't mind the occasional masked ball (which allows him to be a little theatrical on the rare occasion he feels like it). In contrast, Bruce hates valentines because the press harasses him about relationships every year and he's sick of it. (Mother's Day and Father's Day are rough for him too but I thought I'd pick a less obvious answer).

9. What objects do they always carry around with them? His keys and phone sit in his pockets alongside the fob for the Batmobile and his wireless noise cancelling headphones. He travels pretty light, maybe carrying an odd piece of Wayne tech when needs be.

#the batman #batman #batman 2022 #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #headcanon