"gucci this gucci that"

Picture it: Living room floor. Subject in eighties neon leotard (the works...), lotus position on work-out mat ready to strengthen/lengthen those triceps/biceps with stretches? twists? curls? involving this gucci (horsebit buckle) belt. The buckle bit makes a good handle. It's a God-send really. I'm sure it works just as beautifully for the lower extremities, those thigh and calf muscles!

You must know how much I love (sartorially) versatile pieces. This – a belt that goes from a terribly sexy piece of accessory to an exercise implement in all of two milliseconds; Frida Giannini is genius. (I'm not terribly crazy about the black color (preorder at Saks, but, the grey (Gucci online)... I adore.)
Such cleverness.

Speaking of, I know you love the title of this post. I know I love it because I'm quoting a line from a rap star, whom I imagine is terribly famous; unfortunately, I'm not that bothered to google his name. Forgive me. (Baby steps.) But I will admit that the culture is flowing through my blue veins. While I'm semi-secretly repelled by the canvas logo print that can go on anything from your car seat to your toilet seat I suppose (I apologize, honestly, but eeck!!); and by extension, the name itself – Gucci¹ – because lines like the one from my title actually exist (no ummm... judging, I'm just making a point), I must admit I'm in flagrant lust with these recent steel-accented pieces. Shall we ogle together??

Picture it: biting sex. (steel tarantulas) (Mwahaha!! I can't explain.)



Greetings earthlings.
Double sugar kisses and ^{♪ ♫} may all your wishes come true ^♪.




Footnote:
1. I wonder which name/logo print I detest more, 'Gucci' or 'Vuitton'? No offense. I actually love them, but you know what I mean...