Dear moldy Chuck Taylor sneaker girl who wears that “Look at me” hat and those moldy, ripped, filthy, disgusting, smelly Converse sneakers while managing to live in either Manhattan or a triple inflated rent apartment in pseudo-hip Brooklyn. How do you do it? What is your secret to being so rich yet so poor? I’d like to buy you a new pair of Chucks so we can rub McCarren Park dirt on them while cutting perfectly placed ironic holes in them so people will think we are unsuspecting musical or artistic geniuses just waiting to be discovered as we rot in the NYC subway system. Hit me up at