Letter From A Broad, Celebrity Endorsement Edition

Dear Ed Hardy/Christian Audigier/whoever,

For starters, could you please decide what name these garments are meant to evoke, because I am totally confused.  One would think that this Ed Hardy fellow is the person responsible for this, um, fashion statement, but then right under the name "Ed Hardy" is the very prominent subheading BY CHRISTIAN AUDIGIER.  What is that supposed to mean?  Is Ed Hardy Christian Audigier's alter ego?   Is he an evil twin?  Have Ed Hardy and Christian Audigier ever been seen in the same place at the same time?  Why the hell is this clothing line named after the apparently fictitious Ed Hardy if you're just going to splatter BY CHRISTIAN AUDIGIER all over it?  Why not just call it CHRISTIAN AUDIGIER and spare yourself the hassle?  Also, isn't it a little outre to display the designer's name so prominently under the label name?  After all, when Karl Lagerfeld designs a Chanel suit (is he still designing Chanel?  I seem to be five or six years behind on my Vogue reading), he doesn't put BY KARL LAGERFELD under the famous double-C logo. Furthermore,  could I please clue you in on the poor choice you made for "celebreality" spokesperson?  I know there's a recession, but geez - Jon Gosselin?  Really?  What, Michael Vick was too pricey?  There wasn't a Backstreet Boy or two willing to give you a cut-rate endorsement?  Finally, could you please share with me whatever kind of mind control you're currently exercising over the general populace to make them wear your ugly-ass clothing?  I would like to share it with the crazypants folks who are convinced that public-option health care is akin to throwing out the Constitution in favor of gulags and Five-Year Plans.  I'm not saying you have to be clinically insane to love Ed's-slash-Christian's unique aesthetic (i.e., biker tattoos meet seventies van art tinged with just a splash of eighties fluorescence), but I'm sure it helps.

Sincerely,

Puzzled

Dear Jon Gosselin,

Wow, what douchebag you turned out to be!

(As you can see, I don't believe in pulling my punches.)

While I'm not a J&K+8 fan, I had seen enough of your ex to have a whole lotta sympathy for you, and from the sounds of it, a lot of other people felt the same way.  And you've managed to burn through those stores of goodwill in about three-point-two tabloid stories, dude.  When you were the whipped husband shambling along in the wake of the SS Kate, I wondered what you'd be like if you weren't being chastised, ordered around, condescended to, or belittled continuously.

Obviously the answer is, "a douchebag".

Look, I understand you're making up for your lost youth.  You were surrounded six-deep in diapers and TV cameras at an age when I was hanging out with my friends, running up credit card debt, going out on worknights, and dating highly unsuitable people (Or more accurately, pining after highly unsuitable people and wondering why they didn't want to date me.  It's best all around that I got married later in life.).  But the fact remains that you are THIRTY-two, and not TWENTY-two, so a good deal of the sh!t you can get away with, or at least excuse away on the basis of callow youth, you can't do when you pass the three-zero Rubicon.  I mean, just look at the sight of you:

Aside from the fact that the picture on the upper left makes you look like you're rocking the petal-pink lipstick (not your best color, BTW), you've got the cute-suburban-dad thing going on.  The picture on the right, on the other hand, makes you look like a superannuated frat boy after spring break.  Dude, if your face gets any puffier, you're going to have to punch it down like bread dough.  And we need to have a long, serious talk about your Ed Hardy BY CHRISTIAN AUDIGIER addiction.  There are several things I never want to see on or near ANYONE'S hiney, and embroidered lion's heads definitely make the list.  Seriously, the only place we should EVER see those jeans is on a bonfire.  Or on the Glamour magazine "Don't" page, and you should have a black bar over your face.  One or the other.

We also need to talk about your taste in women, a sense of taste which seems to be firmly lodged right behind those lion's heads.  I know now that you're on the road to being unmarried you are free to pursue your lovin' any way you want it, but do you have to pick barely-legals who look like they're carrying an alphabet soup bowl full of STDs, even if they can't spell STD?  Holy penicillin, Batman, if any of those walking Petri dishes of skeeze you've been parading around came anywhere near MY kids, I'd be asking the pediatrician for an aerosol antibiotic.  No, scratch that.  If any of those skankbuckets came near my kids, I'd be lawyering up and throwing the book at you.  And I'd just love to see the judge's reaction when you come strolling into the courtroom in your $275 sweatshirts and your bottle-blonde hoochie mamas.  I'd be getting sole custody faster than you can say "Ed Hardy BY CHRISTIAN AUDIGIER" five times fast.

Now go put on some nice Dockers and pay some attention to your kids.

SP

P.S. Beware the specter of a rapid fall from fashion's graces wearing that trendy sh!t too.  Remember Ashton Kutcher and the trucker cap phenomenon?  I rest my case.

Comments

[Laura]

Awesome post.

[Cherie]

Funny funny funny (and so true). Thanks! I needed a laugh.