The story of the Canadian tuxedo.

All tuxedos are not created equal

i don’t claim to have any fashion sense

when i was younger, i was a tomboy

my wardrobe consisted of patterned stirrup pants and backwards baseball caps

i idolized Becky ‘the ice box’ o’shea

and had a big crush on devon sawa. come on, who didn’t?

but i’ve come a long way since those days

(and apparently so has devon)

or so i thought

apparently this weekend, i broke a fashion faux pas

so widely known that it has its own name

the canadian tuxedo

ok yes, wore a canadian tuxedo

but, let me explain!

(Jemaine and Bret know what’s up)

i just spent a year living in nyc

where anything you can pull off, goes

unfortunately that is not the case in richmond, virginia

where west end preppsters outnumber vcu hipsters

i donned my denim shirt and jeans

like it was no big thing

within seconds of my friends viewing my outfit

it became a big thing

so of course, i took up defensive

becoming a canadian tux advocate

yes, Ryan, yes i do.

i pridefully displayed my outfit everywhere we went

my friends pretended they hated it

but i knew the truth

they wished they could throw their

lilly and lacoste into the wind

and jump on the denim on denim bandwagon

i love me in my canadian tuxedo