Last night I was reminded why I had stopped reading GQ Magazine.
Pretentiousness.
I had to stop and look up the word...and there it was, disillusioned that I wasn't wrong, but there it was just the same. I was hoping that English, my second language, was failing me. It wasn't.
pretentiousness - the quality of being pretentious (behaving or speaking in such a manner as to create a false appearance of great importance or worth) wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
My son Daniel brought home the March 2010 issue, he is currently following in the family trade which is fashion and GQ I'm afraid, has come to be what we call "FASHION". On the bedroom floor among the bedlam that is the picture of the prolonged adolescence of the times it sat, still, waiting for a turn of the page to scream the reckless words it came to believe just merely because... they had put them into print. It beckoned me like a long forgotten adversary that had broken from the ranks without fanfare. Thinking somehow that in the heat of battle it might have ridden past the sunset...it had not. It beckoned me as the apple drew Adam and with as much intent and venom.
So here I was, weakened by the state of television today, I did....I picked it up. By page 100, not even half way through, I had had enough. The mental convulsions were more than I could bare, why was I doing this to myself? Why would I put myself through the agony that even an Anbien CR could not tame? There could only be one reason...I was the chosen one to slay the dragon. Have you ever noticed that if you don't fall asleep within minutes the Ambien will give you a slight buzz? Ok, well, that's it, my pretentious moment, that's my excuse for feeling so grandiose as to be the "chosen one" and no, I wasn't seeing dragonS...just one....one...well that's it, just one...GQ.
These pants at the top of page 100 started the ball rolling, I was just looking at the ads and pictures for the first go around. Did you read that? I actually thought I was going to do this twice. Pay close attention to the price at the bottom of the picture.
Hey you, short attentioned Blogger reader!!!! That's $1,950.00....move over King Tut, Barneys has some of your gold in the Men's department. I scan further down ...oohhh wait, there's a shirt that goes with that, I feel better now uh......what? You want to charge me for that too???? Uh-huh says Mr. Barney with his hand on his hip and his head trying to decide if it wants to be on his right shoulder or on his left shoulder.
Ok then, let's take a look....you see, Mr. Barney Sir, I design shirts and have manufactured them in three different continents...Uh-huh...my head's not steady on my shoulders either!!
You see the one on the left? That's theirs. The one on the right? That's mine. Most shirts have 72 sewing steps, this way surpasses that. The fabric is 100% cotton from one of the best mills in the world, out of Austria to be exact. The shirt is made by the finest craftsmen and women in Italy. No, not made in Romania and then we slap a made in Italy label, no Sir, it's really, really Made in Italy. Do you see the price? $130.00. You see theirs? $750.00. If you want the remaining long list of the details drop me a note because I have another item to bitch about. I am feeling like Pacino in Scent Of A Woman "OHHHH I'M JUST GETTING STARTED HERE!!!!!"
Take a look at this. Are you kidding? Bill Lavin is among the best in the business and the belt retails for $85.00. Nothing against the belt from Barneys but $1,255.00? So there you go, to me the cost of pretentiousness is the difference in cost between the two belts, $1,170.00. I understand that one product can have better materials, it might be made in Italy vs. China where labor is cheaper, I GET IT, but $1,170.00?
Pretentiousness should be defined as: the act of allowing someone a power grab, an ass kiss, to self medicate with self righteousness by another that is less educated as well as senseless. Lethal cocktail those two. Educate yourself, ask the questions so that you may allow yourself to laugh and laugh heartily at the pretentiousness that is hoisted your way at the turn of each page like a whip striking your very consciousness. With 100 pages behind me, my sentence was 100 strikes....then I freed myself so that I....could slay the dragon.
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