[A handsome, bearded customer enters the store. While his mannerisms are masculine, he’s wearing long, dangly earrings and glitter nail polish, and he’s carrying a tasteful, silk clutch. Immediately, Inner Me is like, “Non-binary! Genderqueer! Role model! Mentor! Instruct me in your liminal ways, Ascended One!”]
Me: “Hello! How can I help you tonight?”
Customer: “BLECH. THE SMELL OF LEATHER MAKES ME THINK OF A FARM.”
Alrighty, then. Not quite the spiritual advisement I was looking for. I think I’m just going to go back to quietly venerating Tilda Swinton.