This much we know for sure: The End Times are going to look extremely cool.
There are, from what I can tell, a few rules:
You do not wear shorts to the Apocalypse. You do not wear flipflops or capri pants or a kicky little pink halter from Betsy Johnson. You certainly don't wear skinny jeans or a nice pea coat and some Mary Janes. There are no Ugg boots at Judgment Day. Tasseled loafers? Please. Sweatpants are sort of tacky, but hoodies are widely accepted if you really must go the bleak oatmeal route. Then again, this is the apocalypse, sweetheart. Isn't it about time you got serious?
We're talking badass dusters and jet-black sunglasses and cool black boots, filthy fitted T-shirts and fingerless gloves and a few rugged industrial-strength duffel bags -- sorry hipsters, no Chrome Messengers at the Rapture -- to lug around your collection of giant sawed-off shotguns and/or enormous machetes, all of which you drive around in your mutant Hummer abomination thing -- a mammoth vehicle, by the way, that must be either black or gray or military green and never bright red or blue or in the shape of a Ford Festiva or Honda Accord or a Chrysler Town & Country. Hey, that's what Jesus drove to cart away all the slobbering faithful, and he's long gone, sucker.
Much more.
Harrumph. All I've got are blue jeans, cheapass hiking shoes, 2-for-$8 Hollywoods, gimme caps, and all my hoodies are sewn into quilt-lined flannel shirts. I wouldn't want to make a fashion faux pas at the Apocalypse, so I guess I won't go.
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