Thursday, September 10, 2009
If tennis bracelets are the jewelry equivalent of the French manicure, then ankle bracelets are press-on nails. I’m not quite sure about the origins of the anklet, but it seems like a gold-plated shackle to a shitbox life hanging out at the mall.
How’s that work when putting on socks? It must chafe at the gym. It’s particularly awesome when it’s over (and sometimes under) nylons. Usually that hosiery color is “suntan” and the anklet is straight out of Things Remembered. In a word, hot.
Speaking of smokin’, I remember watching Love in the Afternoon a few years back and wondering why Audrey Hepburn chose to strap on an anklet to pose as a woman of the world. Wouldn’t red lipstick have done the trick? But now I get it. An ankle bracelet was her sign that she was open for business and believe me, Gary Cooper was buying what she was selling. The ankle bracelet wasn’t an indicator of class, but a measure of how many times around the block she had been.
I think we should string together all these chain-link offenses, lasso the women who wear them, and send them back to hell (i.e., Claire’s Boutique).