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| Mike, the man. | Image, Abercrombie & Fitch |
ONE OF THE greatest memories I will ever hold is that of a father and son one night out at the mall. This was in the fall of 2005 – late-October, or perhaps early November – and I was at the threshold of a personal period which would flourish to strongly transform my entire sense of being, dreaming, and believing. Having turned 14 that summer, a high school freshman I had become, and unbeknownst to be were the profound elements to come into my life of magnitude so great that reworked foundations would manifest with spirited, pioneering zest onto which build upon into adulthood. As we walked on, it coming into sight and passing alongside, my father looked to the left and nodded towards, "Soon, I'll take you there to shop your clothes." A great, elongated white facade, furthermore wrapping around the corner, featured wide clear-glass windows behind which reclined darkly-toned, seductive, sophisticated grayscale photography of young adult men and women and from which entrance, featuring the lead image of Matt Ratliff, pulsed bass-strong music with hints of fragrance – only a passerby's transient glimpse gave insight to an obscured dimly-lit interior which furthermore registered the notion of something so elevated, provocative, exclusive, and bold hitherto yet unexperienced for someone so young. Upon that moment's glance by those 14 year-old's eyes, I had no idea how profoundly Abercrombie & Fitch would become one of those molding elements in my life
– let alone be composing this Letter in the future on this very blog as it stands. This was Mike Jeffries' Abercrombie & Fitch.
