There’s no such thing as class mobility in America, ha ha ha, but here’s a tip for the aspiring rich: If and when you finally do get a little cash in your pocket, please don’t flaunt it by writing a multi-page article for GQ about how much you can’t stop spending on Gucci clothing. That’s the lesson learned by Buzz Bissinger, the writer of the original Friday Night Lights book, who penned such an essay and is now taking the Internet’s flack for his bizarre fascination with leather jackets, boots, pants, jeans, gloves and other items from the House of Gucci. But really, what other reaction but wide-eyed O_O is there to an article filled with such revelations like:
I own eighty-one leather jackets, seventy-five pairs of boots, forty-one pairs of leather pants, thirty-two pairs of haute couture jeans, ten evening jackets, and 115 pairs of leather gloves. (!)
The most expensive leather jacket I own, a Gucci ostrich skin, cost $13,900. (!!)
We are for the moment Gucci Olympians who have spent Olympian sums and will presumably spend Olympian sums during the week. I believe I qualify. God, do I fucking qualify. (!!!)
and the amount he’s spent in the last 3 years:
Such extravagance is run of the mill in the fashion world, but there’s something especially odious about a writer bragging about his purchases—because he should be self-aware enough to figure out that no one wants to hear it, and because such wealth puts him in the .0001% of all authors. Worse, still, is the article’s air of revelation at his own rebellion for being so spend-happy–the hip dad identity he’s creating for himself, the lack of fucks he’s giving at blowing all that cash! And yet the image on the right is what he’s chosen for himself. You can buy a lot of things, but you can’t buy taste.