My dad dresses like a dad in polo shirts, dad jeans and white tennis shoes. My dad claims he has style, but his ripped work shirt would beg to differ. Mother is an 80s starlet meets wannabe teenager. Then there is me: a hobo thief who steals her mother’s clothes, yet also loves a good baggy T-shirt and ripped jeans combo. My brother, like a lost puppy, trying to find his way, still dressed like a total guy. He likes band tees and dark blue jeans, with timberlands completing the look. He asks her questions about how he should dress...poor lost puppy.
But my dog’s favorite outfit is nothing. His collar is his arch nemesis who he hates and pouts when he has to wear it.