“Yeah, um..for starters, it looks like something the cat dragged in.”
She adopted a stone cold expression as eye’d the shirt. “There’s a pretty fine line between rocker chic and ‘there are too many holes for this to function as a shirt, anymore’”.
“Who are you, my mother?” She countered, sounding more and more like a grumpy teen with every word that dropped from her lips. “I’ll wear whatever the hell I want. Besides, this–” She waved the shirt in front of the other’s face pointedly and continued, “–is wanted by hundreds.”