YOU DO NOT HAVE THAT SHIT ON, YOU HODDLEHOY

I have had enough of the peacocking on this fine campus by the likes of fashion gremlins, fribbles, and pigeon-livered popinjays. Apparently, anybody can buy some bum-ass brummagem wares peddled by a costermonger and try to stunt in Rhetoric & Elocution 230, like bitch I see you. I can tell that your wide-ass frock coat was stitched with the armholes too low. My armholes? They're nice as fuck, this shit drapes on my body like you wouldn't believe.

How are you cool walking around next to 40 dudes with the same shitty trousers made by some fop-doodle who all saw on the same scroll? Doesn't thou know his head from his ass? You arrive at the function wearing a shirt scribbled on without a cravat and demand attention from the huzz? Disgraceful.

You claim to prance about with antique vestments, yet you adorn yourselves with fugazi replicas mocking "olde school" finery. Swing by my emporium swiftly, and I can remedy your foolishness with authentic vintage wares. I got that pre-Byzantine, Sumerian runway shit, and so forth.