Lord of the Bling: How Hip Hop Clothing is Changing the World, One Velour Ass at a Time

Mar 20th, 2004 | By | Category: Columns

Just the other day I was traversing through the mall, sipping on some henney and coke when I spotted Eminem’s new clothing line Shady Wear, which contained the following shady shades: prison orange and powdered baby blue.

As I drove home in my car, guzzling down gin and juice I wondered, “Do I have a drinking problem?”

Then I thought, “What is with these hip hop clothing lines?” Seems everyone is wearing a hot pink velour jump suit. Except for Andrew, who was toting that fashion way before Jennifer Lopez could spell her name with three letters.

But maybe I’m the one with the problem. Why not emulate Jay-Z’s fashion prowess? Who wouldn’t want Eminem jeans that have a waist made to fit comfortably around your lower butt cheeks?

Kittens all up in this hizah!

Of course, these guys are simply following the master, P. Diddy, whose own clothing line amasses so much wealth it makes my heart go all a flutter. I was lucky enough to be at a club he hung out at one night. He was dressed to kill. Actually he was dressed to knock himself unconscious, because he was wearing sunglasses.


At night.

In a club.

Which makes me question, “Why doesn’t the super market carry hard liquor?” and “Do people really want to wear clothing designed by a man who needs ten bodyguards around him so he won’t smack into a wall?”

Maybe it’s not about the big names designing clothes. Maybe it’s the whole “you are what you wear” mentality. Theoretically, a man’s goal is to collect as many beautiful (easy) women as possible. That’s what I’ve learned from the purveyor of truth, TV. So when guys watch TV and see famous men wearing these clothes and garnering these easy (beautiful) women, they think they should go out and buy said item. Like a fur coat. Or a suede coat. Or a suede fur coat. Or a suede fur coat adorned with feathers ripped from an endangered Maltese falcon’s butt.

I feel for the starving Somalian children slaving away in sweatshops, creating such disastrous clothing that contains vast amounts of Lycra, velour, and pleather (harvested from the endangered Pleacow). Imagine the little huts they could build out of those precious materials? But no, these fabrics must be used because some tween in Minnesota wants to look like a big ho. I bet one hundred rubles that many a poor malnourished child after working overtime has lifted up a product questioning, “What is this shit?”

However, some rules of fashion never change. For women, the style is always: “less is more,” or “Don’t waste our time and show us the goods.” For men, the style is always: “Is there a human being under all that bagginess?”

A great example: the jersey. Y’know, those shirt people wear that advertise a team they don’t play for, worn ten sizes to big for them. Hip-hop clothing is so inspired by sportswear that many wear “the head band.” Jennifer Beals might have looked hot wearing one, but slap that terry cloth on a man and wow! You now know that guy is hot, or he just has a sweat gland problem.

There is also this mystical object called the do-rag. I don’t understand why people wear jerseys with names of teams they don’t play on with these do-rags, completed with a baseball cap teetering jauntily to the side. We can thank Charlie Chaplin for the jaunty, and many professional athletes for the do-rag. The do-rag is supposed to keep sweat from running into your eyes. However, most who wear do-rags have no fear of this calamity because the biggest sport they play is “find the alcha-ho.”

But you can’t get them girls without a magnificent accent known as “ice” or, as I call it, “massive embellishment of riches you do not have.” I especially like the medallions, because they remind me of Flavor Flav, a pioneer before his time! Who mocks that big clock he wore around his neck now, huh?! Because of him, you can get anything “iced”, like Smokey the Bear! Because a diamond inflected Smokey the bear could really prevent forest fires as well as get allllllll the ladies.

And now, dear readers:

A Desperate Plea

Remember 80s fashion! Oh, you shudder at the thought of animal print spandex, neon leggings and MC Hammer pants. But back then you thought you were looking pretty killer with your frizzed Flock of Seagulls hair, Duran Duran suit coat and matching slap on bracelet.

You strapped on your pair of bright yellow Roos thinking “I am a sexy lady!” (you can say that if you’re a guy too). That’s right, you were fooled into wearing horrible fashion then, so why do you think you look good now in your purposely-faded jean pantsuit? The 80s already did that with stonewash jeans! The ever-popular velour tracksuit? Remember when people wore spandex not just to the gym? It’s been done before!

Don’t deny Motley Crue, Poison and those other hair metal bands who really were dudes who looked like ladies. Women swooned over their flagrant lack of fashion no-how! Why, they bought hair metal CDs and tickets by thousands, making sure those goodies were stuck safely into their day-glo fanny packs. The same goes on today, except P. Diddy, Nelly, Eminem, Jay-z and all the others are now at the helms! Don’t be brainwashed, don’t be fooled into this illicit ploy to take your money!

End of Desperate Plea

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go buy my brother a name belt for his birthday. He has too much on his mind, like banging the hos and collecting room keys, to remember his first name.

CELEBRITY REBUTTAL: P. Diddy’s Jewelry Bitch __________________

Well, you know, those sunglasses are important. When a man’s as famous as P. Diddy, he needs to be able to slip on a pair of diamond-encrusted Ray-Bans and get away from it all. They allow him a little time as a “mundane.” When he wears those six-pound beauties, he blends in to the crowd. He could be anyone! And he likes the feeling of just being another thug in a club, you know? Just any old man who has his friends get drinks because his hands are weighed down with ice.

I, personally, am proud to carry the backpack full of jewelry that Mr. Diddy insists he have available at all times. I am a crucial part of his transformation from rap mogul into an ordinary guy, and that makes me proud.


Frequent target of fallen angels, Eileen hides from their seductive wrath in the hallowed confines of Defenestration HQ, where she hopes to erect a wall of words between herself and the forces of evil.

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