It was a sweltering Sunday in Brooklyn. Instead of being wasteful and spending $10 on a five-minute Uber, I decided to walk the 20 minutes to a cutesy Japanese stationery cafe with an even cutesier name. Despite the 85 percent humidity, my vanity demanded I wear a full face of makeup with a snatched nose contour. Sweat was leaking out of every pore, melting said nose contour into my sunglasses. Foundation ran down my neck and stained my shirt collar. I'm pretty sure all of Williamsburg could see I had pit stains.
So I was taken aback when a suave artiste walking a French bulldog stopped me, pointed to the Oakley Meta HSTN Limited Edition su …
