Imagine a cummerbund. Then inject it with HGH, give it a temper that causes it to trap you inside your own clothes, try and escape from its rude clutches, and then put on a hideous pair of boots because all that drama wore you out and you can’t see straight and maybe you are also hoping they will infuriate your sartorial captor. Then, and only then, perhaps you can justify this.

Otherwise, fasten your seatbelts, because we are hurtling down WORDS Boulevard without a care for the speed limit.

 [Photo: Getty]