From this day forth, if any CSTB reader receives grief from a significant other for their purchase of say, The Frantix’ “My Dad’s A Fuckin’ Alcoholic”, they can simply point to Pulitzer Prize winner Buzz Bissinger’s piece in the April 1 issue of GQ (“My Gucci Addiction”) and say, “yeah, but am I really that bad?”
Just to be perfectly clear, I have no personal animus towards Mr. Bissinger and for the record, I find his claims of spending more than a half million dollars on leather jackets, leather trousers and other items that might suggest Rob Halford is his personal style guru, far less embarrassing than say, his rabid defense of Lance Armstrong, endorsement of Mitt Romney or televised tantrum aimed at Will Leitch. Buzz has much to say in GQ about his own sexuality and while I encourage everyone to engage in similar exploration, I certainly hope such journeys can be undertaken for less than a half million dollars.
That said, when a writer of Bissinger’s skill (and self-awareness) confesses “clothing became my shot glass, another round, Net-a-Porter…I wasn’t mainlining heroin, just impossibly gorgeous leather jackets and coats and boots and gloves and evening jackets,” I cannot help but recall another decorated author’s battles with addiction. Toblerone, to be precise.