STAMP OF APPROVAL - a selection story

no playing favorites

"Game on," I retort and we separate, going to complete opposite sides of the small store. I tilt my head looking at my options. I need something truly hideous in order to win this game, but all of the men's clothes are so... generic. I had hoped that by coming to the arts district the options would have been a bit more eccentric. Instead I'm just finding button down after button down. I move to a different rack and smile as I find a pair of pants that has one leg cut off, but it's not extreme enough.

"Remind me, what is your size in inflatable pants?" Frankie asks me almost nonchalantly as he moves to look through the rack on the other size of mine.

"Hmmm, I wouldn't know," I joke, pretending to have to think about it. Before he can say anything else I rush to add, "And if it doesn't fit, it's disqualified."

He frowns but agrees as he moves on to another circular rack. I can't tell if he actually put something back, but I figure it's a safe bet to add in a fit rule. I mean, he can't demand I wear a child's shirt now at least.

I'm starting to get frustrated when I find it. The perfect shirt for Frankie. I don't know who wore it, or why they would have even purchased it, but now, for this, it's perfect. Red sequins and purple feathered tassels hang off the arms and along the back of the western styled shirt. I giggle to myself, pleased to find it's roughly in his size. Shortly after I find the worst pants possible, green plaid bell bottoms and decide that yes, they clash horribly. Now to accessorize.

I skim the lack of shoe options with a frown on my face. How does this shop only have black dress shoes and converse available? I shrug and pull a pair of plain black converse in Frankie's size off the rack, deciding to give the guy a break. I pull a hat at random, not even looking at it as I notice my time is running out. I had seen a pair of sunglasses by the register that I knew I wanted to get. They're awful, these small flame spectacles that while they kind of match the red in the shirt are just ugly in general.

The cashier raises her pierced brow at me as she checks me out.

"Are you sure?" she asks as she takes the horrid shirt from me.

Frankie groans as he sees it, having come up behind me to cash out as well. I turn to him, smiling in premature victory before telling the cashier, "Quite."

—

"Man, you play to win, don't you?" Frankie says from the dressing room at the back of the shop.

I laugh, anxiously awaiting the big reveal. "It's not fun if I don't. Now come on, show me."

"Half of the buttons are missing," he complains as he exits the dressing room, his shirt hanging half open.

"Oh, wow," I gasp in between laughter. "I am evil."

Frankie looks up at me grinning, the sunglasses just as awful as I had been anticipating. I don't like the look in his eyes as he hands me a bag and pushes me to the dressing room. "Your turn, Your Highness."

"Frankie, how could you?" I ask, pulling item after item out of the bag. I hear a chortle as something falls out. I squint at it. "What is that?"

"What?" he asks and I can tell he's come up to the dressing room door.

I unlock it, and hold the offending item up for him.

"Oh, that's a half corset," Frankie explains, crossing his arms.

"I can't lace up a corset myself," I tell him, already shaking my head, ready to disqualify the thing. A normal corset, fine. They're not comfortable, but this one... someone decided to bejewel it. Horribly. And half of the jewels are falling off.