W&T for short, this small shop sells utilitarian clothes at rock-bottom prices (literally, they will accept rocks). Unfortunately, this is the most depressing place in the Stacks. You smell mothballs and dust as you enter the dimly lit store, and the thin, ragged tailor looks up hopefully, daring to hope that you will buy from him. He looks close to tears.

The clothes being sold are unremarkable - decent craftsmanship, styles several years out of date, and tiny, almost imperceptible moth holes. The word around town is that Wear and Tear is soon to go out of business - but they've been saying that for about seventeen years.

Faded signs on the wall proclaim "Every Thing Must Go!!!!" and "SALE" (underlined several times). The entire shop smacks of desperation; even the stuffed-straw mannequins wearing yesterday's fashions seem disillusioned of their lot in life.

Minke Labres couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the pungent odor inside the store. She struggled to hold back a sneeze-or was it vomit?-she wasn't sure.

"Maybe I don't need new pants right now...I mean the stain isn't that bad." Minke thought to herself as she glanced down at the ink stain. "Then again, it is. I'm sure the smell will wash out...I hope."

Minke took a brief overview over the entire store only to realize it was all pretty much the same just with different colors. She wandered over to a section of ratty tan pants almost identical to her own, but without the ink of course. She was about to pick a pair when something strange happened. For the first time in her life, Minke couldn't decide which pair to get. Shopping had never been top on Minke's To-do list, but this time was different.

Minke stood there for a moment, lost in thought about how plum odd the day was becoming.

Sunday Withers, the rather desperate-looking tailor, gasped as Minke entered.

"A customer!" he cried, in a voice that sounded as dusty as his shop. "We haven't had one for wee--I mean, welcome to Wear and Tear Clothing Emporium, happily satisfying all of your clothing needs since 2695! How can I help you this day, madam?" He bowed repeatedly, overcome with joy, accidentally knocking over a display of bow ties (which had not been popular for years).

Minke jumped at the sudden noise at her side. She looked at Sunday and felt a ping of sympathy for the poor man. It was obvious he wasn't used to having visitors.

"Um, well I'm looking for new pants." She said as she gestured the stain on her current pair and then bent over to help him pick up the bow ties.

"Which pair are the least out of style?"

The shopkeep stared at her, his mouth slightly ajar. Out of style? Withers didn't understand the meaning of the phrase. In his slightly warped worldview, nothing ever went out of style. Pants were pants, after all. As long as they got the job done...

"Er..." he started, stammering a bit. "All my pants strive to reflect the latest fashions. I hear that the new big thing is vintage!..."

Feeling that perhaps this was not as convincing as it could be, he arbitrarily pointed to a pair of crimson silk pants.

"These, of course, are particularly fashionable, heh heh," he added hastily.

"Vintage is in?" Minke tried to think of what she saw galdori wearing but came up short. Although she had spent hours upon hours sketching local citizens she had never thought to sketch the galdori. It seemed pointless to study a people she couldn't hope to socialize with. Furthermore, all the wicks Minke knew had either sewn their own clothes or purchased them from stores similar to this one.

She stared at the crimson pants. "Well, they would be a nice change from the tan pair I usually purchase, but I'm not sure I want something as delicate as silk. I'm not exactly the most graceful or tidy person, as I'm sure you've noticed." Minke explained as she gestured again to her pants.

Her eyes swept the room landing on a pair of cargo capri pants. "How about those in red?" She said pointing to the pair she had found. She gazed at the price tag and paid Sunday the mere change he required.

"Thank you for all your help!" Minke sang as she trotted out the door with her new pants in hand.