GUEST POST BY (the one and only) MORGAN ROPER

The Ed Hardy Aesthetic: Douchebaggery in Garment Form

There was once a time when one only had to worry about the female’s affinity for a catastrophically rhinestoned tee-shirt and jean combination. This female was usually in the 7^th grade, harboring some sort of unhealthy obsession with both Britney Spears and the Bedazzler she was given for her 12^th birthday. However, thanks to the million year old, exorbitantly sketchy Christian Audigier, men around the world are able to express their inner sparkle by wearing shirts, jeans, shoes, and hats covered in glittering dragons, tigers and skulls. After we had survived the Von Dutch Explosion of the early 2000s, I thought that the men of the American Public had learned to avoid the attire favored by those who drive tractors, are suffocatingly tooly and/or live on the Jersey Shore. How wrong could a young girl be…

As I walk down the street, I am sporadically blinded by some sort of oily, guido character sporting a too-tight, gleaming atrocity of rhinestones and cartoon animals. He strides down the boulevard, his blow-out catching the light of the mid-day sun, muscles bulging, looking like an overcooked turkey and he’s pleased with himself. Proud. The posterchild of Ed Hardy Elegance. I understand that most of the people who frequent the Ed Hardy store also live by the spiritual mantra “Gym. Tan. Laundry,” but there are some ­normal people who also find themselves attracted to the aesthetic. And that is a problem. I have seen far too many males wandering the streets wearing muscle-tees, the male equivalent to your grandmother’s sleeveless, high-necked blouse. I know that it’s summer and that its 1000 degrees, but straight men are only allowed to wear sleeveless shirts underneath their real shirts. They are called undershirts for a reason. Christian Audigier made the male tank top widly and disgustingly acceptable and he had the audacity to throw a multicolored, glittery rose on it?! How dare he? Though I blame you, Mr. Audigier, for making me to encounter already unattractive males clad in acid wash jeans adorned with sparkly ninjas, I also thank you. You made that “Is he a douchebag?” guessing game that much easier.