On Boy London, vanishing chicken wings and the Mongol empire

Recently I've been seeing a lot of Boy London stuff on people around Stockholm. It's one of those brands I got wind of by wading through Japanese street style blogs by the thousands, and I think the minimalist print and the casual-looking oversized shirts are the coolest thing. I want like ten of their shirts, and I want to wear them with black dropped-crotch pants and draped cardigans, or just really really skinny black jeans. These Tokyo fashionistas sure know how to do their thing.

Just look at them being fierce as shit.

The fact that both G Dragon and T.O.P wear Boy London doesn't make it any less desirable either.

And the rest of Big Bang too, I guess, but let's face it - I only really give a crap about G Dragon and TOP.

I've put Yanyan on checking the Hong Kong shops to see what the price range is around there. I mean, if I really want one I can allow myself to order one, but I'm feeling that £40 for a tank top, however cool, is kinda expensive. Macklemore may call $50 for a t-shirt 'ignorant bitch shit', but the alternative in this case is knock-offs, and I hate knock-offs.

I've seen a store that sells inexpensive copies of Boy London stuff in Stockholm, but even though I'm kinda poor I really dislike the whole replica thing, as it takes money away from those who actually put the work in designing it. Even if it's half the price (or less!), it still doesn't feel right. Also, the store that sells the replicas is super tacky. I've joked before about longing for the day when I can afford my own taste, and I honestly don't see that changing anytime soon. Maybe in Japan, but for the next six months, I'm going to have to make do with wishful thinking and drooling into my laptop. My cash situation is only just starting to get under control after all. I don't want to jinx it or anything.

Happy anime boy Yohei showed me a pan of chicken wings as he was walking past when I was making preparations before the dinner service. "Hey, please try these later!" he said enthusiastically. "I made them." So I said I would, and they smelled really nice, and he awkwardly patted my upper arm and then went home for the day. And then, the mob of customers came, and they ate everything. The chicken wings as well! I was devastated when I noticed. So disappointed! Especially when Shan went "Wow, you missed the wings? They're like his specialty! That's the kind of stuff he used to cook in Japan, they're amazing. Why didn't you take some to save before?" but there was no time. Seriously, Wednesdays are the worst work day because of that buffet - it's nice and all, but I have to run like crazy between taking dishes and standing in the register, and I hardly get tipped at all because there's no table service. Motherfuckers.

Grumpy Mongol Bata was around with his usual grumpy self, until our boss left and he started making fun of him by imitating him and laughing, which cracked me up. My linguist brain has a fascination with the Mongolian workers, and I wish I could learn a few words or phrases, but I don't know where to start. It's not like anyone has time to teach me while actually working. Ah well. At least I know I can turn to John Green for their history.