Eye-popping deep blue-indigo cowboy shirt with white piping, twin pockets, super cut sported by a flash granddad in his mid-seventies. Magnifico. Top notch. There's an outlet somewhere perhaps in the Jurong Badlands beside a traffic viaduct where these old Elvis dudes source the articles; small clientele rogue threads like that on a can-do, go-getter island like this run by ironed white shirts, ties & leathers. Nice buckle only glimpsed, such was the radiance of the chest, shining like a breast-plate on a richly caparisoned knight in the Holy lands. Thinned dye swept back, comb in the rear of the jeans must have been. Chaps at the Labu Labicorner table at —now Sri Geylang Café—caught their breath watching that number prance past borne by the lord of the jungle.
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