The ironic thing about the King of Jeans is that when he grabs your hands and ever so gently kisses you with the slightest bit of tongue, YOUR jeans end up coming off, but the King of Jeans, his stay on.
But hey, who am I to question his methods? I mean, shit. The guy’s the king. Of jeans, nonetheless. And everyone loves jeans.
Found on Passyunk Avenue, South Philadelphia