I'm kinda sick of walking around Witcher 3's world looking like Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen. I'm supposed to be a gruff and grizzled monster hunter, living in a filthy world and at the bottom of the social hierarchy, dishing out menacing threats in a monotone voice, yet I'm dressed in pristine baby blue prince pyjamas because they happen to be the strongest clothes I've come across so far. Let me cut & paste the stats from these Pierrot cumrags into a butcher's apron or something. And let me do it freely, with no in-game wank about having to visit a special magic tailor in the bumhole of nowhere, and with no restrictions on how often I can do it.