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It would raise a few eyebrows, Spirou thought, that in their shared apartment there was quite a collection of Mens International Vogue. It would raise even more eyebrows that there were also quite a few Italian Vogue's as well. Spirou sighed as he moved them to the too full magazine carrier. People already talked about them, well Seccotine talked about them, and while it wasn’t like he cared what people thought he and Fantasio got up to in the privacy of their own home. He just couldn’t understand it. Why did Fantasio care so much about what he wore? More often than not the clothes ended up ripped, wrinkled and ruined at the end of their adventures. Or they had to be abandoned for various disguises and never seen again.
Picking up the latest Italian Vogue, “I wonder, did he get it delivered or did he pick it up while we were in Italy?” Spirou sat in the plush arm chair, Spip moving from his pillow on the couch to his lap, he just didn’t understand it. The clothes didn’t look uncomfortable, but why spend the money? The time? Who cared? Heck, often it seemed that Fantasio didn’t care. Fantasio liked to brag, he liked to show off his nice things. But not once in their friendship had he mentioned how much his shoes cost or where he got his shirt. It wasn’t like he even took that long to get dressed. They’d often be running late, or getting a call of “Your plane leaves in 2 hours see you there!” and in 10 minutes Fantasio was dressed for the runway while Spirou was in a comfortable pair of pants and a functional shirt. He continued to flip through what appeared to be the same suit on 10 different models when...
“You’d look good in this one, the subtle pinstripes would accent your legs.” No matter what Spip thought, Spirou did not yelp, he merely exhaled loudly because he was startled. He glared at his older friend. The smoking wasn’t helping his new found mood.
“Why would you sneak up on me like that?”
“Didn’t mean too buddy, and if you like the suit I can order it for you.”
“What?”
“Though,” Fantasio took a moment to consider, “Without the waistcoat, either a waistcoat, nice shirt and pants or just a suit jacket and the pants.”
“And why?” Fantasio shrugged, as he looked around for an ashtray before turning to look back at Spirou.
“Three piece suits are too much for you, too much for me too, no, either classy casual or classy.” Spirou groaned, sinking deeper into the chair,
“I don’t understand fashion and I don’t understand you, where do you even get the money for these nice clothes of yours?” Fantasio shrugged again, this time looking towards the bookshelves for the glass ashtray he kept there.
“Spirou, did you move the ashtrays?”
“Yes, to your room, where you can keep your bad habit.”
“Haha. And I’m ordering that suit for you, the Count is sure to have another event soon and you never went and got your suit tailored after the last incident.” Spirou winced, he couldn’t wear a suit jacket that was missing a sleeve, that was true
“Fine, but I still don’t get it.” Fantasio just smirked as he ambled to his room, grabbing the magazine and ruffling Spip as he went.
“When you look good, you feel good. And I like to feel good all the time.” Spirou huffed, throwing his arms up in frustration. Things like this? This was why people talked.