The other night, Frankie and I left for date night with no particular destination in mind. (The usual.) I was looking foxy in a 70's crocheted maxi dress and my vintage knee length fur coat. (The usual.) As we were cruisin' down 4th Street in LBC I spotted a crowded, hip looking joint and promptly ordered Frankie to park the car. We walked down the street hand in hand, and Frankie waited outside while I runway walked down the long corridor of a restaurant to put in our name. The bearded hipster man put down my name and rudely snarked that it would be over an hour 'til we could get a table. As I sashayed out of the popular eatery I could feel everyone's eyes on me - and not in the usual, "YA THAT CHICK BE ROCKIN' A BAD ASS FUR" kinda way. Lame.
As I walked out to greet Frankie I got the same pretentious stares and flashed him my look of distress. He smiled as he held the menu in his hand and asked, "Babe, did you know that this place is vegan?"