Live From the 4th Floor: The Rise and Fall of the Ed Hardy Empire

It all started with the ever-popular Ed Hardy rhinestone tucker hat. I will be the first to admit that I purchased one of these ‘gems’ about 5 years ago, right after I tossed my Von Dutch that was rad for about 14 and-a-half minutes. Luckily, that was the extent of my Ed Hardy phase and I think I wore it once to the gym, and by gym I mean the Ab-Roller in my basement. But with the rise of the trucker hat came the uproar of the tattoo T-shirts which snowballed into the gleaming track suits and a fragrance line which pretty much everybody who’s anybody has, right?

Now, any smart person would have sold their stock in Affliction and invested in the monopoly that is Ed Hardy at this point in the game. I, on the other hand, just couldn’t swallow my pride enough to have my name and social security digits tied to the brand. However, these Ed Hardy “products” became a contagious disease; appealing to the masses in New Jersey, and Mexico, then spreading like the Chicken pox across the globe. From Vodka and hookah bongs, to bedding and cars (yes, cars) these mother fuckers will slap a “Love Kills Slowly” sticker on just about anything, overprice the shit out of it and call it a day’s work.

Ed Hardy and Ed Hardy factory inspector numbers1 through 1,000, I beg of you, put down the Bedazzler and close up shop. This is my plea to allow the fine citizens of Mexico, New Jersey, Scottsdale, and beyond to return to their less sparkly apparel. This is me asking you “pretty please,” allow the beautiful women wearing frosted lipstick with dark liner to retire their blinding pink track suits. Come on Ed, I’ll help you come up with an exit strategy. Maybe we can get you in for a job interview with BP. Just put “Overpricing Shit” and “Accidental Catastrophes” under your specialties, you’re a shoe in! But please, stop the madness. It’s become prevalent that your glittery, tattoo-esque accoutrement is making mediocre looking people ugly, it’s bankrupting hard working MMA fighters, and slowly but surely making the whole world compulsively *bling. I have a dream that one day, we will all be free of the Ed Hardy epidemic and we can return to our normal, graphic tee-free, Bedazzless lives.

Fucking Ed Hardy.