Upon waking in the morning and climbing out of my bed and down out of my loft, I must face a decision: Bad Ass vs. Evil sunglasses. I ponder this dilemma as I shower and brush my teeth, then put my clothes on: which one will win the battle today? Which pair truly reflects the image I wish to portray on this day?
As I approach the desk and put on my fossil watch, put my wallet and keys in my pocket, the glasses stare up at me - I can see myself in their lenses, secretly longing to be taken into the sun. On some days, this decision is easy; if I'm wearing a Hawaiian shirt, I cannot wear the Evil shades - Bad ass wins by default.
The Evil sunglasses are characterized by the absolutely black lenses that they have, much darker than one would expect from a pair of shades. The blackness blocks all light from exiting, allowing the wearer to see without being seen. It has thin brass colored rims, with a small bridge connecting the lenses. Only true Evil could create and be represented in such a perfect darkness. The Evil sunglasses were bought in a Savon in Glendale, California.
Although not as menacing as its competitor, the Bad Ass glasses makes up attitude. Featuring black rims and dark gray lenses, Bad Ass is smaller and lighter than its counterpart, and compliments most casual wear very well. Evil finds its strength in exuding its message of absolute danger; Bad Ass is more of a rebel, sending out a message of attractive hazard. Bad Ass was bought on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, California.
This morning, I had put on a Hawaiian shirt - I would be saved from the decision for today. Yet the possibility still lurks for tomorrow. I may wake up, and decide it is Evil's day to see the sun.