Marriage Made in My Confusion.

Yesterday Mango and I were perusing the stationery department of the UCLA store when I came across something that was simultaneously delightful and worrying.

OUR SCHOOL IS SELLING ED HARDY STUFF!

Let me back up a little. I have a love-hate relationship with Ed Hardy. I love the tattoo-inspired style, I hate the heavy use of skulls. I love the "love kills slowly" slogan, I hate how emo it sounds. I love the colors, I hate the exorbitant prices. (Side note: I once saw an "Ed Hardy" stand at a Hawaiian swap meet-- the Ed Hardy is in quotations because while I was browsing the owner of the stand came over to inform me that his products were all fakes. Encouraged, I inquired about the prices. Apparently Ed Hardy knock-offs are still out of my budget.)

So when I saw the Ed Hardy notebooks, binders and pencil boxes, I wasn't sure what to think. But I soon realized that the prices (everything under $10? who are you and what have you done with Ed?) were actually ... well, reasonable. My bitterness evaporated. I was ready to purchase.

That is, until I slowed down and looked at the pencil box in my hand. I felt a sneaking suspicion. "Mango," I called to where he was slowly inching towards the electronics. "Mango, what does this remind you of?"

"Uhm," he said nervously, one eye on the bright purple and pink in my hand and one eye on sweet escape in the form of manly technology. "Nothing. Ed Hardy?"

"No," I said grimly. "This looks like Lisa Frank. Remember Lisa Frank? All those sparkly stickers little girls had in the '90s?"

"No," Mango said, confused. "I wasn't a little girl in the '90s."

I waved him away. As much as I was eager to actually make an Ed Hardy purchase for the first time in my life, I felt.. reluctant. Why was this pencil box so glaringly pink? Why did it have equally bright purple accents? Why did I feel that if I bought this I should also remember to bring a check for the lunch lady and put on my sticker earrings?

I was in a pickle. I spent the next five minutes glumly contemplating the fate of my $7 and the sparkling new pencil box in front of me. As I was giving it one last one-over, I made a discovery.

"Mango!" I shrieked. "Mango, come here!" He sprinted over. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.
"Look at this!" I shoved the Ed Hardy pencil box under his nose. "Look! IT SAYS LISA FRANK. RIGHT NEXT TO THE ED HARDY LOGO. WHAT DID I TELL YOU?"
Mango did not have a satisfactory response. He gave me a look of mixed confusion and annoyance and meandered away.

So now I am here, letting off steam and wondering WHAT ED HARDY IS DOING. First advertising on the back of a recently divorced father of eight who spends his days ho-ing around on boats, and now making products aimed at tween girls, the same demographic that created the menace that is Twilight?

Come on, Ed. I stuck with you throughout the realization that a lot of people think "Ed Hardy" is another name for "supreme d-bag,"and throughout your "sales" that marked tshirts down from $150 to a mere $75. I even generously overlooked the fact that I don't relate to or even like most of the other people who wear your clothing. I thought it could be different with me. I thought I could pull off your brand without seeming lame. But this? This might be the last straw.

I am a loyal if poor consumer but even I'm starting to be glad I can't afford any of your stuff.