I got this belt back in 1995 from Gucci during the Ford administration… the Tom Ford administration. It was a high time for designer branding, a moment when I fell victim to a fashion that demanded that people notice whom we were wearing from across the street. At the time, I acquired a few pieces of this designer advertising that begged attention and validation from strangers “Look! I’m wearing Gucci! Ha! Now fuck off…”
Clothes that outwardly announce their origin are advertising for the label. To this observer, the revenue stream for outside label wearing is backwards. Personally, I need to be paid to advertise for someone, but, the fashion industry has gotten people to pay to wear these things in exchange for bragging rights. It’s genius, really.
Unless it promotes a good cause, I am not a fan of clothing that advertises. My “G” belt is the only relic I have from that phase. If my name didn’t begin with G, I would never wear it or even own it. In fact, I almost went as far as getting the Hermes “H” belt, and putting the G and H together on the belt strip. I still might, but only to put a playful spin on the joke of fashion status display.
Other than the “G” belt, my Levi’s, Chuck Taylors and Ray Bans are the only things I own that give the world a clue how much I spent. Other than that, in my more sober, mature and age-appropriate days, I much prefer to leave a little mystery. If anyone knows what I’m wearing, it is only because they politely asked and I happily told them.
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