Friday - August 24, 2007

Frustration, resolved.

This image refused to come out earlier this evening. Fiddling with it and iBlog 2, I lost an entire entry. I had a eureka moment about notebooks and doodles and the fantastic and why I think all movies should have robots and talking pigs, but I don't want to write it for the third time. That way lies misery. 

Instead, I will write about belts. I used to like them, back in the early nineties. I would buy belts from the men's departments of decidedly untrendy stores; the belts showed every sign of having hung from their racks since the seventies. I had one with a flower buckle reminiscent of the Mary Quant logo. Another one was clear plastic with red threads. I also had a leather belt with rusted studs and even scarier grommets, the kind zombies could use for eyes.

Almost twenty years later, just in time for the comeback of leggings and plastic candy bangles, the belts are back. I steer clear of the bling-encrusted, the gilt trippers and the aggressively embroidered. They do look fun, but I'm afraid I'd be laughing too much at myself to actually enjoy wearing them. I still borrow from the boys: a favorite belt, with a cross superimposed on a lion en passant, came from the men's rack in People are People. The only accessory I returned with from Hong Kong was a belt. Its buckle is built from a scrap of motherboard. The word "tough" is stamped all over the reverse side of the leather. Even if no one can see it, I like the sentiment. I am a tough geek belter! Don't mess with me.