Pinstripe

I walked into work this morning behind a man wearing an awesome suit.

He was a black man, maybe forty, forty-five, heavyset. Hair cut close to the skull, expensive glasses. His suit was a deep, inky blue with tiny pink pinstripes. His tie matched the stripes, and his shirt was a paler shade of pink. Again, awesome suit.

But here's the thing: you know that smell you smell when you go into a hippie store? It's a combination of old vinyl, incense, pot, pot smell remover, t-shirt dye and patchouli.

This guy smelled just like that.

What's up with that? Why does the middle-aged black executive smell like he might have some awesome Dead bootlegs from the early eighties?

Totally unrelated: here is a picture of John from earlier this evening, when he ate spaghetti-o's for the first time.