I'd love to personally shake the hand of the idiot-savant responsible for ass-branding. Good job to you, sir or ma'am (had to have been a guy)—I mean, other than the fact that you actually got people to think velour is okay to wear out in public (or ever) you've managed to convince an entire generation of sheep that not only is it okay to utilize their asses as virtual spaces for rent (them paying you to advertise: brilliant!) but that it's also okay to read whatever phrase is slapped across someone's tush. And? The longer the phrase, the longer people ogle your ass. See? Totally brilliant.
The designer sweatsuit has been a plague on high schools, college campuses and Fashion Island for much too long now. These candy-colored jogging outfits of velour and sparkly stuff are going for upwards of $300 per set or, like this pair of navy sweatpants at Abercrombie & Fitch, ever-so-slightly less.
One of the latest to cash in on the fancy jogging suit game is Primp, whose cotton horse-and-bunny-and-anchor-and-heart patterned zip-up hoodies ($143) and drawstring pants ($132—remember when drawstring pants were reserved for pajamas and fat people?) began flying off the shelves after Paris Hilton, Mischa Barton and whoever else were photographed in them.
And the only way of recognizing the (monetary) value of these outfits? The words on your ass. So. Classy. I've seen everything from Greek letters to band names (have you no shame?) to cutesy phrases (SNOW BUM! Ha! Punny!). But for some reason, the brand that remains the worst to me is the brand that started it all: Juicy Couture.
How many times have you been at the gym (zero for me but so I hear) looking at words on the oscillating butt of some skinny bitch on the treadmill ahead of you? Why would you want to advertise any part of your body as "juicy," girls? (Especially when the ass in said pants is nowhere near "juicy" level. False advertising.)