They Wear You [Clothes come to the party, they wear you underneath” from “Clothes Come to the Party” by Maya Sarishvii]
Designer jeans are convening at the pub, self-consciously comparing labels and the tanned athletic legs they're wearing with such style.
Pinstripes gather in exhausted groups at the bar. They’ve not had time to change out of the careworn paunches of the day. Ties have removed the fleshy necks stained with sweat that the shirts predictably call “honest”.
Now dresses make their entrance, all dolled up in shapely hips, Beyoncé bottoms, jutting breasts. A slinky sheath is wearing last year’s woman. A mini-skirt has put on a chubby secretary and chats with a tweedy jacket whose leather patches dream of stripping off the thin white elbows they wear inside their coarse bookishness and fondling silk denuded of the heavy thighs.