imaginary outfit: french movies and dinner after

I have a lot of things to do tonight, but if I didn't, I would be headed to the Cinematheque to watch puzzling french films in hard-backed wooden seats. After having our minds sufficiently clouded with thoughts of existentialism and the destructive corroding power of the bourgeoisie, we would gladly retreat to Bar Cento, where we would eat the best fries in the city and drink lots of red wine, trying to make sense of it all. I'd have a cozy sweater against the chill, and a pair of killer boots that would strike admiration and awe into the heart of all that I met.