And here we have Rabbit Bartholemew, the young turk who once strutted the world in his leather jacket and Rolling Stones shirt, the vocal upstart who busted down the door, the party animal who could rock and roll, so he fucken went!

Yet, as with all mortals, age shall not weary them but the fashion police will condemn.

Party drugs and leather duds are not a good look on the middle-aged so, embracing the next phase of his life, Rab begins sporting attire more suited to the sedan-driving, suburban father. And for this, Billabong had Rab's measure: high-waisted dark denim jeans matched with a faded denim shirt. The lack of socks and belt suggest either an air of casual grace or the creeping fog of dementia, while the aviator sunnies and Hollywood pout are optional extras for those not willing to fully cast off from a well spent youth.