You're strutting out of a dimly lit theater in downtown LA, the kind where the seats still smell like old popcorn and forgotten dreams, and bam—some dude in a leather aviator jacket mens blasts past you like he owns the goddamn runway. Heads turn. Yours included. What sorcery is that jacket pulling off?
I used to scoff at aviators, thinking they were just dusty relics from WWII pilots...
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