I’ve said this once and I will say this again.  Boston is sartorially, not the most exciting place on the planet.  People around here dress fine to good to well, but not super fine or super risky.  Neither do I, so I don’t really mind.

But when there is a big event, a light bulb goes off in the head of the average Bostonian and they say to themselves “this is the moment to dress as a banana, Winnie the Pooh, or Gene Simmons” or as the people dressed as the following.  Never mind the fact that they again were running 26.2 painful miles:

And as a Red Cup.  But that sartorial delight got its own entry already.