American Apparel gets the Moose seal of approval. It's a haven of soft, brightly colored cotton clothing that, rumor has it, was not produced in a sweatshop full of big-eyed Asian children paid 6 cents an hour. One reels in shock. I didn't know it was even possible to buy clothing in the U.S. that wasn't produced via the exploitation of others.

Along less purely altrustic lines, here's a bone for the men. Men, you want to prod your girlfriends into this store when they've dragged you shopping. Specifically, the one on Haight Street in San Francisco. No, there's no TV. No beer either. No lame excuse for a couch. Hint: Vintage porn. Your girlfriend gets to shop, you get to ogle women who were hot thirty years ago, and the Asian children are, well, probably still screwed but at least you're not supporting said screwage.

This is one of the few stores where I'm guaranteed to find something that I'm actually going to wear and can actually afford. I have this skirt in purple:


I have good memories involving this skirt. Memories I'm not going to share because they're just that good.

I also have this dress in, um, purple. It's a lighter shade. The color nazis made me do it. It shrunk in the wash and is now more R-rated than G:


More good memories.

American Apparel: Officially the best way to get laid without resorting to fishnet. Not that I have anything against fishnet (oh no) but it's not so convenient for after work dates. I think the Double A has proven itself sufficiently. Time for another visit.