Riding the L train during rush hour was truly an indignity. He watched as people dressed in suits and organza silk dresses pushed and pressed into each other to claim their spot on the train, all angry and stressed and panicked. New York, man. People really come here to work.
He, on the other hand, waited four trains until there was space. There was no way in hell he was cramming himself into that tiny tin can to arrive at work a mere 10 minutes earlier. He would listen to music and look at what people we wearing.
And what were people wearing?
A man in a robe made of brushed flannel pinstripe suiting, the belt tied loosely at the back. He had a baggy white button down shirt worn untucked over wide leg trousers. It was very elevated looking. There was also a girl, one he definitely would have partied with back in the day, with bleach blond hair and an oversized square cut crop top that said ‘DUMP HIM’ in big bold letters. She looked very confident, but not hard in way. This shirt would have be less amusing on someone angry. Lots of business-looking men but in run of the mill suits, nothing interesting. If he was required to wear suits, he would select the best, and experiment with the shapes. There was a very nice Savile Row he remembered from his previous job, with quite an exaggerated curve at the waist. He would wear it unbuttoned and slightly unkempt. The women’s bags were rarely special. It’s a shame a woman has to spent two thousand dollars to have a decent bag these days. He thought it was worth it, regardless. A girl can wear a white tee shirt and Levis, but if she has a killer bag and a nice pair of shoes to go with it, she can go anywhere and look better than anyone.
Arriving to work he started his emails, reaching out to anyone he could think of to throw him a life preserver. It was not in his nature to ask for help but he thought he might as well give it a try once. It felt vaguely disingenuous but he was a charmer so it would all be kosher. It just felt a bit odd, but he decided to be humble, for once. . .