Dear Mom,

No, they’re not “just pants.” They're not “just a brand.” I really don’t understand what part of this is such a difficult concept to grasp. I’ve been on this planet for 16 years, and at this point, it’s unbelievable that you’ve made absolutely no effort to understand me. No, they're not the same as Supreme; they're not Obey; they're not Stussy; and god-fucking-no-woman they're not Yeezys either. Jesus.

They're Bape.

They’re $300 pink camo sweatpants, and THEY’RE BAPE. Remember that next time you bitch to me about how my spending habits are “destructive and irresponsible” or how you “can’t miss another mortgage payment” or how you need to pay for my sister’s “chemo meds.” They’re BAPE.

Yes, yes, I know I already have Supreme’s “Supreme Red Brick,” Raf Simons’s “Raf Sandbags,” and Kanye West’s iconic “Jeans Distressed With a Cheese Grater,” but this is different. I need these pants to show everyone I keep it real. I need these pants to show people I’m not just a Juul-ripping fuckboy. I need these pants because no article of clothing says “I’m better than you, you worthless, dirt-stained peasants” louder than Bape camo sweatpants.

Just imagine me walking into class in my iced-out fit: backwards Obey snapback, lime green Supreme hoodie, and eye-straining pink-Teletubby-vomit Bape sweatpants. When I walk in, everyone will think to themselves: “Damn, this guy fucks.”

So please mom, for the love of your first-born child, just Venmo me $300. Sure, to a fashion-blind simpleton this might seem like a lot. But c’mon. Just, I don’t know, get another job or something. You’re a strong woman; you already work, like, two already, and you raised me and my sister alone, so how hard could it be?

Love,

Chad “A$AP Juul Pod” Julian