A Note on Why (as Opposed to How) to Wear a Belt

To be added to the list of accessories thou shalt not leave home without: belts.

So to tally that up, we’ve got earrings pierced anywhere but the lobes.

Bags that look like books. Or picnic baskets.

Chokers for your neck.

Tassels for your arms.

Hair for your pits.

And temporary tattoos for everywhere else.

But why belts, why now? I’d like to argue this: they’re kind of like cinnamon. And in the event your outfit is an apple, everyone knows you haven’t lived until you’ve seasoned that fucker with a dose of the spice.

So, sure, you can wear a dress or a pair of jeans and a shirt without a belt because we’ve evolved past buying things that don’t fit us and thus require leather adjusters but do you want to? No! The answer to that is no — reason being you are a complex individual and your sartorial pairings should reflect that.

I invite you to consider the following option.

Cool dress, right? Thanks! I like it too. I bought it from Club Monaco last summer and have maintained zero regrets since. It’s breezy, it marries navy and black and it allows for my jewelry to pop like a fragile woman’s kneecap riding dirty down a double black diamond ski slope. Great. Cool. See ya.

Now consider this:

So much cooler it is palpable. You can see it on my lips. Indeed, the belt in question is more utilitarian than most — it maintains a pouch to both carry my things and my fupa — but do you see the added dimension positioned just between my belly button and legs, facilitated by the mere fastening of hole and metal rod? If I was comfortable before — again, the human equivalent of an apple — now I’m also kind of different. Not that kind of girl. I put cinnamon on produce, etc.

So now I invite you to consider the following recommendation: Utilize your belt loops. Put anything through them: string, chain, leather, whatever. See how it makes you feel. Let the above slideshow marinate. Appreciate the ease with which you are capable of urinating because it takes a second longer for your ass to meet the seat and then give yourself a round of applause because what’s the point of living if you don’t?

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