“It made sense why no one called them Cosby sweaters anymore. Who wants to embody the style of an iconic rapist? Likewise, they are aviators, not Unabomber glasses, they are white tanks not wife beaters. Signifiers evolve, the past is rebranded. I knew all this and I thought it was good and still I fucked up and said to the young man “nice Cosby sweater” and the young man frowned and said, “Cosby, what, like Bill Cosby?” and I said “no, Cosby. The designer. He’s local, I think? Makes his own dyes,” and the young man said “I don’t think so, this is vintage,” and I said “oh okay, so it can’t be a Cosby,” as I crunched down the tail end of my shrimp.”
Read more at The Forge Literary Magazine.
Oh, I almost forgot – this story has a playlist:
Kelli Dianne Rule: Author 
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