Most people pay their taxes using W-2's, and everyone knows the basic process: a few days before you start a new job you fill out a bunch of paperwork, and somewhere in those endless pages you write down a number between zero and eleven million to indicate how many tax exceptions you plan to claim for things like having a deaf child or finally tricking someone in to marrying you or being only being 14 years old and working illegally so therefore someone else can claim you as a dependent. It's pretty straightforward. As long as your employer isn't using Boiler Room as their on-boarding video, by the end of the year you should be more or less square with the proper authorities.

And yes, even with a W-2 there's always the small possibility that someone else fucked up a little bit and maybe the government owes you the equivalent of three Wendy's drive thru visits, or if you're poor college graduate still shoveling coal on to your loans perhaps a random $1,000 heads your way. Or, on the flip side, maybe you fucked up a little bit and you owe the state of Connecticut a few of the loose bills sitting in your bank account. Either way, nothing life changing or earth shattering comes your way on April 16th. 

But for those wandering, economic nomad members of society fortunate enough - or unfortunate enough as it may be - to live that "we leave taxes up to you" lifestyle, filing taxes turns in to a reenactment of the movie Arrival; either everything is going be just fine, or this shimmering obelisk called TurboTax is going to fuck your entire world up in about twenty minutes.

When you work as a contractor, or a freelance artist, or a remote consultant, or whatever qualifier-noun combination you chose for this week's business cards, there's no employer (aka adult) to verify that you're following the rules and funneling Uncle Sam his appropriate piece of the pie. It's up to you to have the mental wherewithal and impending sense of foreboding to not to see that larger-than-expected paycheck and think to yourself, "Holy shit, I'm rich," because you know the piper is going to demand his payment eventually.

And the government knows that you're stupid! When you're not on a W-2 they give you the option to pre-pay your taxes quarterly so at least you get periodic reminders to not be a total fucking idiot. But instead there you are, spending your entire $90K annual salary on a closet full of cashmere and a collection of takeout menus, only to realize way, way too late, that - whoops - you actually owed $42,000 of that Scrooge McDuck haul to your friends at the IRS. 

Pay your taxes. While technically not an order, it's unclear what sort of legal culpability could be incurred with advice to the contrary. But - hypothetically speaking of course - if you weren't going to pay your taxes, this Junya Watanabe x Karrimor Backpack Jacket is the perfect splurge purchase to drop a few thousand dollars on, and is also great in the totally-unrelated-of-course off chance you spend the next few years of your life on the run. At this point it's about the best investment in the future you can make.


Price:  $2,488

Brand:  Junya Watanabe x Karrimor

Store:  Norse Store

Why:  It's a double reversible, nylon, polyester and cotton, corduroy-accented cargo backpack jacket. Word salad? No doubt, but also a marvel of imagination meets technical know-how meets no one's stopping me so let's. fucking. go. If you're going to spend what an eighth grader makes in an entire summer working at the neighborhood ice cream shop on a single garment, it might as well be one that can double - no, triple - as any god damn thing you want it to be.