It occured to me, that the laundrymat is the city’s great equalizer. Everybody in here has soiled their costumes and have come back down to their basics in order to prepare for another week of dress up.
No bra to falsely shape breasts. No jeans to contain our asses. To wear makeup now is as futile and grotesque as a clown face in casual attire.
No, the only indicator of lifestyle are the stylish hipster shoes being rocked sans socks.
Here at the laundrymat, we’re all, flesh and blood, and sweat pants. Cleansing our fabricated status fabrics a buck seventy five at a time.
Written by Mauricio Balvanera
Topics: rants