Written in honor of my eldest nephew, who puts on clean, ironed clothing, walks across the living room and suddenly, like a werewolf’s transformation (but only in clothing) he’s dusty and wrinkled. I have no idea how he manages to do that.
To tell the truth, I don’t how you do it. All ironed fresh and clean looking, Let you wear it or hold it for several seconds. Eventually, (in the first two seconds) Now it’s wrinkled and covered in dust. Talent, my boy, you have it, must.