be old and to no one

I noticed Banana Republic’s 2006 holiday ads feature stubbled men that would not be out of place fighting along-side Aragorn if it weren’t for the fact that they were draped in maroon cashmere. What gives? Xmas time is cherub time. Let us have our season, you ruddy-faced crows-foot-eyed magnates.

Suffice to say, the “you look so yooounnnggg” comments continue to rain down.

I decided I want a scar on my face. It would toughen up my image and provide a nice conversation starter at my swanky lawyer cocktail parties. Yeah, perhaps a long scar crossing the eye. Or a savage cut along the cheek. Something that screams battle-worn, craggy, don’t-dare-question-my-mettle-or-age warrior type. I suppose then I need a battle axe, too. In case of challenges to my honor. Hm, this plan is becoming more involved than I had intended. I draw the line at the tunic. Forest-green clashes with my rugged man-eyes.

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