Collar popping

So I was riding the bus and, this morning, I was filled with righteous indignation. My early morning bus riding companion was forced to listen to me rail against all that was not right with the world. Blah blah this and blah blah that. I talked all the way to the train and once I got to the platform I continued to rage against the machine all the way up to the point that the player/pimp showed up. I stopped in my tracks! Where the hell is this guy going at this time of day? My travel companion, who is an older lady with grown children, turned to look at the gentleman. Today he was wearing a reversed tiger striped shirt. When I say reversed, I mean that the shirt was black and the stripes were gold. His slacks were pinstriped and very, very high waisted. When I say high waisted I mean in the region of a Zoot Suit but twice the width of a cumberbun. I would hazard to say that the waistband was about 8 inches and very tight in the buttocks, again flaring at the calves. Today's hat was again a Summer selection of straw with a very wide, frayed brim. The feather, or should I say "plume" was a modest black selection that was mildly fluffed. After witnessing this I had to speak on the guy's appearance to the lady.

Me: Rage rage rage and more rage....(pimp sighted)..that guy is always dressed in flamboyant clothes.

Her: Yes!! He never wears the same thing twice!

Me: (Not knowing whether I should speak ill of the guy to this lady after sensing a bit of admiration) You are right! I've never seen him in the same thing. He has something on that is different every time I see him.

Her: And he always smells good, too!

Me: I wonder what type of job he has that allows him to dress in such a fashion.

Her: I can only imagine!

Me: (Testing the waters) Please excuse the description but I refer to him as "The Player" because that is what I think he is or used to be.

Her: No, no I think he is uh, what you call that profession where the guy runs the women? You know what I'm talking about? You know, the guys that be running them women.

Me: (Awkward level DEFCON 2) Ummm....a pimp?

Her: Yes! YESSS!!!! That's what he is! (Smiling as if something wonderful had been accomplished)

I don't know what was more awkward. Talking to this Grandmother about pimps or the fact that she, apparently, just "chose" this particular pimp. I don't feel like getting pimp slapped and stabbed when he comes back over here to claim his bitch.