NEW YORK--Panic descended upon the Overpriced Fancy Shit industry today as the Wall Street economic downturn finally made its way to the brass-button register. Thread counts were down across the board, with the Upper East Side and West Village tallies dropping nearly 20%. Experts placed the losses mostly within the 1500 thread-count Egyptian Cotton market but warned that they could spread to the Grand Italian and Jacquard markets in Connecticut by week's end.
"I am shocked and, like, appalled," announced Banana Republic Sales Associate, Hans Fitzgerald, from his unusually quiet Men's section in the upscale outfitter's West 34th Street location. "This time of year, I should be moving Merino pin-dot argyle v-necks and Heritage snap-neck mock turtlenecks like they're going out of style." Fitzgerald paused to chuckle at his own joke before continuing, "And the Chinos? Christ on a rainbow sequined parade float, don't even get me started."
The mood was equally bleak at J. Crew, where Women's Yoga Accessories regional sales manager Felicia Witherspoon called August, "The worst month for seamless cross-back camis and double-stranded headbands since the Great Pilates Explosion in 2005."
Accessories also took a hit, as Gucci wrote-off nearly $4 million in the second quarter from its Ebony GG Fabric with White Leather Trim Baby Carrier division. While acknowledging the dip in sales, Gucci Marketing Director Angelica Evangelica attempted to put a positive spin on her company's strategy. "We are simply re-channeling our energies into the emerging belt bag, wristlet, and gold-plated leather dog harness markets, where the real growth lies."
Slumping sales are by no means confined to the high-end clothing industry. Among the hardest hit are those within the rap industry. Long based upon rhyming high-end merchandise with other higher-end merchandise, rap lyrics have taken a massive creative hit during this economic slump.
Multi-platinum rapper and energy drink mogul, Ar-Money Exchayynge, lamented, “I mean you gotta rap about what you know right?” And what I know right now is voicemails from collection agencies, shrimp flavored ramen, and a busted-ass Geo Metro. How am I supposed to keep up with this new crop of Arab rappers? They’re talking about buying soccer teams, vast oil fields, and diamond Maybach’s and here I am talkin’ to Stan Goldberg about refinancing my motherfucking mortgage. Nobody wants to hear that shit."
"What am I supposed to do, lie? Rap about shit I rent? If the current rap scene is about anything, it’s about lyrical and artistic integrity. If I can’t buy it, I can’t rap about it. That’s the code. If I rap about a Faberge egg I better have the son of a bitch sitting on the top of my toilet or Jay-Z will fuck me up. And if I try to go all political and shit, Chuck D and Mos Def will have my legs broken.”
Equally telling are the manufacturing cuts that have naturally followed the downturn in sales, dealing a fierce blow to the self-esteem of child laborers throughout the Third World.
“They used to be so proud they were making Louis Vuitton bags they couldn’t afford to buy with 1,000 years of pay,” observed Trong Dinh, sweatshop manager and three-time winner of Thailand’s Cruelest Taskmaster award.
Dinh, who became visibly distraught while discussing these trying times, continued, “Now we have them sewing together knockoffs. You can see their hearts aren’t into it. I beat them just like I used to, but they know that botoxed, old money whores and gaudy, nouveau-riche trollops aren’t going to be putting these on their AMEX black cards and cramming malnourished toy schnauzers into them. You can almost see, stitch by stitch, how disappointed these poor children are to know their work will be purchase by middle class scum with poorly dyed hair and accents holding paper money. Honestly, I don’t think I'd even show up if not for my deep, abiding love of beating eight-year-olds.”
These devastating effects have even moved into the drug market, once thought recession-proof, as former financial company junior executives are now no longer able to afford the vast amounts of cocaine that once fueled their nightlife. Verily, yayo is piling up in uncool brick piles in the shipping crates of beleaguered Haitians instead of cool Scarface-style pyramids on the desks of the Junior Vice Presidents for Overseas Development.
Without cash or drugs, these debased executives have been forced to rely on their personalities to attract sober women who have suddenly ballooned to unlovable size without their appetite suppressants. Neither group is faring well in this new world, kindred spirits on the outside of a lifestyle the financial crisis has left dashed upon the rocks.
There is hope that the recently unveiled $700 billion dollar bailout plan of Treasury Secretary Harry Paulson will flood the beleaguered socio-economic groups with the capital necessary to raise thread counts to early-2005 levels. However, Congressional approval of the plan was still pending at press time, as government officials had yet to decide which cheese plate they preferred for the afternoon session.
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