There once was a man, oh so neat,
With shoes polished bright and a tie crisp and sweet.
His wardrobe was dazzling, his outfits complete,
From the crown of his hat to the shine on his feet.
But here is the twist (it will give you a thrill),
He never once shopped in a shop on the hill!
Not Gucci, not Prada, not straight from the store,
He found all his treasures at the charity door.
From Oxfam to Goodwill, from Barnardo’s to more,
He scooped up the treasures the rich would ignore.
A Burberry blazer, a Ralph Lauren shirt,
A Hugo Boss jacket with barely a spurt!
Tommy Hilfiger ties and a splash of Armani,
A pair of fine loafers that once came from Barney’s.
His flair was sartorial, sharp as could be,
Yet paid only pennies, not pounds, don’t you see?
Now people would copy his dapper display,
They’d rush to the high street and pay, pay, PAY.
“Oh, look at that fellow, he’s terribly chic!”
They mimicked his outfits week after week.
But he only chuckled, a chuckle so sweet,
For his fashion was thrifted on Second-Hand Street.
And what was the lesson? It’s simple, my friend:
True style’s not the money—it’s the fun you pretend!
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