One sometimes gets the sense that when young (and not-so-young) ladies look at Theophilus London they see time and space vortexing around his face, their entire lives reflected in his Moscots, a future of Mediterranean flotillas seeking fine wines and soft cheese drifting from his larynx. How else to explain how this dude isn't getting slapped all over Brooklyn by girls with broken hearts. It's a miracle. Until reality catches up with him, watch this video to get an idea of what they go through.
