It was sometime in 2008 when my older brother actually purchased a pair of Super Sunglasses. So, really, he introduced me to the brand, for which I am ultimately grateful, as I am big fan of their specs. Prior to me ever donning a pair, I was rocking a sleek pair of Ray Bans and was quite happy with them. That was until I cut off all my hair and realized that, shoot, the damn things were too small for my head. Not that I have a large cranium or anything, but when I wore them with my new cut, I looked like my nickname should be “Tiny” and I should be the muscle for some crime sleaze ball with an open silk shirt and slicked back hair. You know the type to which I am referring. And this, in my eyes, would not fly. Enter the barter.
My brother had the right proportioned noggin for the Ray Bans, so we decided, this past Summer, to trade straight-up his Supers for my RB’s. Deal, Howie. Deal. And now, we both look good. Of course, now that my hair has grown back after the worst cut I have received ever in my entire life, I want both pairs. But isn’t that the story of life? Speaking of stories of life, when you go get your haircut and the stylist who calls your name is wearing a baseball cap, leave immediately. Sorry, Floyd’s Barbershop, you lost my business forever. I asked for an Affleck, not a neo-Nazi. I guess, though, you get what you pay for. Jera at Aveda, you my woman now.