The Boy and the Belt
I am old fashioned in the sense that I think men should be able to Make and Fix things. I enjoy Making and Fixing things too (mostly cocktails) and I believe I've gone on record saying that if the priest thing doesn't work out I'd like to be a mechanic. HOWEVER just because I enjoy something doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy someone else doing it twice a much.
Enter the belt.
Like Style Spy who inspired me I have been lusting after this Mossimo belt since the F/W 07show. Unfortunately, I'd have to strap two of the buggers together to get one to circumnavigate my waist, and I just don't have $3000 to spend on a belt, no matter how divine.
So I did what any red-blooded American girl would do. I threw myself on the mercy of the handiest guy I knew and begged him to make me the damn thing.
Friends, I was pathetic.
I cajoled, I wheedled, I made weapons-grade puppy dog eyes. I even went so far as to offer him cupcakes which is as we all know is one half of the one-two punch guaranteed to get a girl anything she want. The other half --which is not on the table since I'd like to keep at least one platonic male friend-- is not suitable for a family blog.
And because he is with the exception of Jesus and the three Johns --Wayne, Cash and Galliano-- my favorite man to ever have lived, he agreed to make the it for me.
So hurrah. I will soon have a fantastical belt, suitable for all my modernist cage corset needs, which as you know are many. The victory is bittersweet though. See, soon he'll know my real measurements.
…and then he'll have to die.
Enter the belt.
Like Style Spy who inspired me I have been lusting after this Mossimo belt since the F/W 07show. Unfortunately, I'd have to strap two of the buggers together to get one to circumnavigate my waist, and I just don't have $3000 to spend on a belt, no matter how divine.
So I did what any red-blooded American girl would do. I threw myself on the mercy of the handiest guy I knew and begged him to make me the damn thing.
Friends, I was pathetic.
I cajoled, I wheedled, I made weapons-grade puppy dog eyes. I even went so far as to offer him cupcakes which is as we all know is one half of the one-two punch guaranteed to get a girl anything she want. The other half --which is not on the table since I'd like to keep at least one platonic male friend-- is not suitable for a family blog.
And because he is with the exception of Jesus and the three Johns --Wayne, Cash and Galliano-- my favorite man to ever have lived, he agreed to make the it for me.
So hurrah. I will soon have a fantastical belt, suitable for all my modernist cage corset needs, which as you know are many. The victory is bittersweet though. See, soon he'll know my real measurements.
…and then he'll have to die.
posted by Rhiannon at 11:30 AM
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