Some years ago, I became fast-friends with the great couturier to the stars, Yves St. Laurent. You really couldn't imagine two people more dissimilar than me and Yves but through one of those flukes, we just hit it off.
"Georges," he would say to me, "you dress like zee blind homeless peeg."
"Yves," I'd reply, "you're a deranged, effeminate strumpet, but I love ya."
Now, to some serious business. The Safari jacket? That was my idea.
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