Red Light.  A Seattle staple on the corner of 47th and University.  The landmark that the Blue Scholars failed to mention in their song “The Ave.”  When I asked Sabzi about the neglected spot,  he replied “I have no comment.  But we fucking missed out on something huge.”  Missed out is right.  Sure, the clothes are overpriced and made for skinny people (which is racist, according to Larry Mizell Jr.).  But they have amazing second hand gear, if you’re down to spend a little extra and skip the grind of real thrift shopping.  And with an added bonus of costumes, Red Light gets the stamp of approval in my book.  Come take a look inside.  

Pharoe’d out in Egyptian 

These shoes could quite possibly be traced back to the origin of the honky pimp.  The combination of grimy anaconda, with the classic caucasian loafer is brilliant.  If my feet didn’t almost bust them open when I tried then on, I would have have suffered through evenings of pain for the luxury of these leather venoms without question.  If you wear a size 9 and sleep on these, I feel sorry for your mother.  Cause she raised a ninni.

Some Members Only/Kanye jump off.  Little shmedium in the arms but super fresh.  The last thing I need. 

I don’t call shoes sexy.  Never have.  But I would make sweet love to this shoe.  And I would last.  Ahhhh, yea.  At least a good 30 minutes.  Alright, fine.  15.  But it’d be good.  So good.  Handmade Italian Ostrich leather in almost mint condition.  Again, size 9.  Now act grown and go love on these.  

Who let DJ Quick in Oldominion?

Animals made into hats.  Indeed.

Said “Larry” on the arm.  And it wasn’t UW.  But still, very nice.

Xperience exclaimed “I’ve always wanted one of these!”  Hmmmm.  

Classsic.  But for the $18? GTFOH

Milli Vanilli, in tranny purp gorilla fur.  And the always super practical shoulder pocket of accessibility.  Whoever designed this had a rave at Naft in mind.

Minus the weird metro waist of this mannequin, I would rock that shirt and pull a beauty.

Xp in his comfort zone.

Fucking Hammer. 

Copped.  It’s going on the back of a jacket.  XP thinks it’s norwegian.  

Ok, I know this blog is turning into nothing but videos and pictures of me.  This was not my intent.  I got a great thrift shop experience coming up, just gotta find the time/motivation to post it.  But for the mean time, here’s me performing “Regulators” in South Dakota.  I was Warren and this dude was Nate Dogg.  And he murdered it…

I love this.  And it might be attributed to my numerous teenage shroom trips, aimlessly wandering around Bumbershoot until I stumbled into a drum circle, only to leave hours later “on the level” with an affinity for hippie crip walking towards peace.  Or it could be the good old Garfield“Purple and White Day” dance with Top Spin (I only made one) that strikes a nostalgic cord….

Nah, probably the shrooms. 

But anyone that can take their cool off and be secure enough in their own skin to dance, gets my respect.  In the words of Goodie Mob “They don’t dance no more.”  We as a culture are so worried about what others think, we’d rather stand against a wall, twitter and make fun of those actually pushing their comfort zone.  Because I’ve spent the better part of the last 5 years being that person,  I’ve been making an effort as of late to gig everywhere I go with a dance floor.  Sometimes I’m in the zone, at times I’m in my head.  But at the very least it challenges the ego, and at best, you have the time of your life.  Even when the masses aren’t dancing.  Sometimes you just gotta be that dude.  And at Sasquatch, this guy was him.  Much respect good sir.  It only takes one…

*props to Rudy over at 206proof for getting me hip