....I am a label whore! This was confirmed by my most recent trip to New York where I went crazy-shopping at Century 21 (not the realtors but a designer discount warehouse). There was plenty of nice shirts, for example, but all I was looking at was the label on the collar. It's not a Lacroix? --Fugetaboudit.
This is all terribly superficial and shallow of me, I know, but pretty things are so pretty! I mean, what is the point of ugly things cluttering up your life? Isn't it better to have fewer, really beautiful things? I guess beautiful things don't necessarily have to be Dior things, but.... --oh Gawd I'm vapid, shallow gay stereotype aren't I? I might as well just change my name to Bryce and get pec implants.
I should just accept my fate; shiny on the outside and hollow on the inside. Oh well, there are worse things to be; axe murder springs to mind for example. I bet Lizzy Borden would have been a lot less angry if she had a Miu Miu ostrich-skin corset to slip into. And she would have been really, really hot! And we all know that beautiful people are always happy (except for Claus von Bülow; and he was German, so that doesn't count).
I say: Long Live Labels! (My new personal motto; Regina Labelis, I'm getting it embroidered into the lining of all my jackets as we speak)
As an addendum, I'm in the middle of watching the final season of Queer As Folk --Awesome!