Sight.

A person wearing fake glasses is like a dog wearing trainers. In the dog’s case, I think “oh look, it wants to be people!” For a human it’s “oh look, it wants to be smart!” Either way it’s endearing, though onlookers also realize that neither of these creatures will realize their purported goal.
It’s rare that a fake glasses wearer and I ever come into direct contact. I think they avoid me: as a wearer of real glasses, I suppose I’m a little intimidating. It’s kind of how I imagine Dolly Parton avoids anyone with real breasts – if fake surrounds itself with fake, then the bar of reality is lowered enough for even a tennis shoe wearing dog to jump over it.
Gosh, I sound so scathing. But this sort of anger really only comes from fear. See I’m fixed in a world behind lenses. Trapped behind the glass like a beady-eyed zoo animal. And when this fake frames bowel movement passes, I’ll be left behind. Stuck in the lower intestine of sightlessness. Forever.
So go ahead, American Apparel love child. Go ahead and buy those fake frames. But at least have the decency to shell out for fake lenses. Please allow me to pretend that you have astigmatism, or at the very least mild myopia. And as we pass on the street I’ll squint to see if you’re squinting, and you’re not, and that’s okay. Because we both look pretty cool, don’t we. Yeah, I guess we do. Shame on you.