I never thought I would say it. Never in my life. Up until about a year ago I would have to look away in disgust every time I saw a skull, a heart and a rose awkwardly grouped in a screen printed abortion of design. If you gave a four year old LSD and crayons, he could come up with something that has more artistic integrity than the dye sublimated vomit stain on an Ed Hardy shirt.
I never thought I would say it. Never in my life. Up until about a year ago I would have to look away in disgust every time I saw a skull, a heart and a rose awkwardly grouped in a screen printed abortion of design. If you gave a four year old LSD and crayons, he could come up with something that has more artistic integrity than the dye sublimated vomit stain on an Ed Hardy shirt.
Then I had an epiphany. We should all give Christian Audigier credit for developing something unique and invaluable to the world of fashion: A douchebag identifier. For the rest of us, nothing has ever been made so easy. Whenever I go to an establishment and this guy is hanging out at the bar, I know there’s a 96% chance I won’t like him, and a 4% chance I’m going to hate his fucking guts.
What happened? Did you run out of space on your steroid induced body for tribal tattoos and barb wire bicep rings? I know you want to look like the menacing alpha male, but trust me when I say no one’s staring at your overtanned, make-up caked, fake titty having girlfriend. She’s probably a whore.
So thank you Ed Hardy. I have come around on the brilliance of your creation. Somewhere deep down I like to think that you were developed in some top secret douchebag identifying lab somewhere in Switzerland, right next to the Axe body wash factory and whey protein mixing plant. Probably not, but either way every time your cash register chimes my social life gets that much easier.
