We're as elusive as hell. OK, so for some of you, maybe hell isn't all that elusive, but really... that is beside the point. And what is the point? The point is we just don't do interviews.

Like Ms. Garbo, "vee vant to be alone. Wiv all deeze clothes." Sorry.

No, really... the truth is that Elvis is working here. And if word ever gets out, we'll be bombarded and, lets face it, how would we get anything done? Not to mention the fact that Elvis is our top garment steamer. Besides, news crews that would descend upon us would mess up our expensive landscaping. We've heard those people at CNN are notorious for it.

Alright. So Elvis doesn't actually work here.

When we aren't working, we're line dancing the hustle to therapy sessions. We've gone through several therapists already this year. They get sick of us rather quickly. Because we won't sit still. We insist on dancing the entire session. If we were actually available for interviews, it would be so shocking and tantalizing and scintillating, you'd think you won a literary prize before you even put your pen to paper. We don't need the drama or legions of adoring fans mobbing us so we can't even buy groceries without being suspected as thieves. No way. Plus, we don't want people touching our super tricked out cars and blowing their horns and cutting us off trying to get us to open the doors, and make us sing and dance in the middle of the road. The traffic snarls! Sheesh. Worse than our collective hair was with those 80's perms. But, for several weeks, we were the pinnacle of the fashion elite. So, HA! It was worth cutting the occasional dread out. Because right after that it was punk glam. Those tight spandex pants had us all speaking in falsettos. Dear God, I so need a martini.

The last time we delved headfirst into the Martini wonderland I had a blast. We hopped the shuttle and drifted in the atmosphere singing "Ground control to major Tom..." They would have never even known we were in there if it wasn't for that catfight we had. Over who was gonna sing the lead. THAT story never made the media. And, why? I'll tell ya why, it was because NASA did not want that black eye. They dumped us off at the Russian space station. We drank Stoli until we got back to the planet. We had a damn good time, but nobody can remember a thing. Except that we had a good time.

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This IS earth, right?

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We can't do interviews for this very reason.

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We're huge liars.

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That's a fact.

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The truth. We much prefer behind the scenes work making you guys out there look damn good.

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Thanks for being so sweet and understanding . . .

The DressThatMan.com Crew
shop@DressThatMan.com

spread the word...

Go ahead and talk about us.
We will neither confirm nor deny whatever you say.

We don't mind you critiquing us in the media although outright flattery is preferred, but... as media mavens know, a scathing article can also garner site hitting attention. Might even send us into a frenzy by the resulting onslaught exceeding our bandwidth. Salacious gossip is bound to keep chins-wagging. We love those juicy tidbits as much as the next person.

Feel free to write to us and ask us questions and, as long as you don't expect answers you're likely to get them.

No matter how hot the lights are, we won't divulge the list of celebrities and otherwise well known personalities that have been customers here. We've taken a vow of silence on that. You can't make us talk. Ever. We aren't name droppers regarding our shoppers.

Our website pretty much speaks for itself. Say what you will because most likely, it's true.

Just do us a favor and let us know what you've had to say about us, and where, and we'll hook up a link on the site.

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Even if you're talking smack.