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The Boulevardier: Let’s Go To the ‘Burbs
Detail of a photo by Marq Frerichs/The Style Notebook.
So here it is: Your get-out-of-jail style card. With this, you have the unquestionable right not to care about what you wear, do, or eat. This is not a “dressing down” card, nor is it a “slumming it” pass—it’s a go-to-your-closet-close-your-eyes-yank-out-whatevs-your-hand-touches-and-put-it-on kinda thing. Everything I’ve mentioned, prodded, cajoled, hinted-at in this column: forget about it. “Let’s Go To The Ex, oh, baby!”
It’s been a while since I’ve experienced the pleasure of the Canadian National Exhibition. In fact, I hardly recognized it. I did, however, recognize the distinct look of its patrons.
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