Light my cigarette. I'm too hip to be seen with matches.

We're just so hip we can't be bothered to come up with new clothing as that would interfere in our leisure time in which to disdain everyone who isn't, so we'll just take the jeans one of us wore in junior high and size them down, add a tank top so thin you could use it to strain cheese, shackle the models to signify how we are all bound by the clothing conventions of the past (and we really like women to be chained up) and get a gorgeous actress to model them in our show. But wait, the actress is too big, so the pants are going to be too small and make her look like she bought them from the Jaclyn Smith collection at KMart. Oh well, cram her in there anyway. She's just a figurehead to prove that people actually buy our clothes and we're not just posers who spend all of our time smoking and drinking and hanging out in bars with no name out front. Who cares if you can see her bra. We can't be bothered to give her more fabric in the shirt. She should have thought of that before she grew breasts. Then, to show that we don't subscribe to eating anything other than tiny, precious little portions in overpriced, overhyped establishments of carefully manufactured cool as that would also interfere with our obvious indifference to anything other than our own needs, let's follow the actress with the usual Ethiopian famine victims to show what our clothes are really supposed to look like when worn, even though they'll never actually be worn as they're meant to be a statement and cost more than the gross domestic product of Peru. All that aside though, we really can't use ballerinas again. They have too much muscle.