“He was wearing a plain white oxford unbuttoned over a T-shirt, but something about the way they fit made him look put together, like an Abercrombie model (well, like an Abercrombie model who had remembered to put on a shirt that morning).”

“If I haven't put that on a T-shirt, I'm going to. Actually, I really don't want to write anything that can't be put on a T-shirt. Actually I'd like to write only on T-shirts. Actually, I'd like to write whole novels on T-shirts. So you guys could say, 'I'm wearing chapter 8 of Lestat's new book, that's my favorite; oh I see you're wearing chapter 6-”

“He'd changed since the last summer. Instead of Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt, khaki pants, and leather loafers. His sandy hair, which used to be so unruly, was now clipped short. He look like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.”

“Can you take off your shirt?”I couldn’t see Rachel clearly on the other side of my truck’s cab. My eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of my secret make-out hideout. But I could hear herlaughing her ass off. “Not even for Sean.”“Well, we have to make it look good somehow. Do you mind if I take off mine? My dad says I look like sex on a stick with my shirt off.”“Knock yourself out.”I started to pull my shirt over my head. I was used to wearing T-shirts. When it wouldn’t give, I remembered I was wearing something Sean-like. As I unbuttoned it, Iasked, “Want to make a bet how long it takes him to get out here?”

“In one Starbucks, I spotted a young Frenchman wearing blue Converse sneakers, baggy Levi's jeans, and a red T-shirt with a giant Abercrombie & Fitch logo splashed across the front. As I watched him wash down his cheesecake with gulps of venti hot chocolate, I had to wonder: can't they revoke your French citizenship for this sort of thing?”

“why did he have look like he just stepped off of an abercrombie bag?”