Lenses are for the lames. The L 7 Weenies. The ones that cry themselves to sleep listening to Transatlanticism on vinyl while they stare out a window and think about a girl that’s not thinking about them.
There are marriages that are meant to last five forevers. Princess Buttercup and that dude from Robin Hood: Men In Tights comes to mind. Trace Adkins and smirking in music videos does, too. So does Dennis Leary’s voice and Ford commercials. That last one’s kind of a rocky marriage, for sure, if only because Dennis Leary so clearly hates himself along with everyone else on this planet, but you feel me. Add Russell Westbrook and Ray Ban to that list.
With his team’s season over and nothing on the horizon but rehabbing his knee and focusing on finding a dope new Zara blazer, it would be wise of both Westbrook’s representation and Ray Ban to hook up and make sweet, soft advertising love on a blanket under the stars so he can wind up on the pages of our magazines and the screens of our televisions rocking a pair of RB5228’s.
At this point he’s known for his fashion sense, or lack thereof depending on what IDIOT you’re talking to, just as much as he’s known for his beyond stellar play on the floor. He’s a hurricane in every way. A thousand things coming together at once to destroy every sense you have.
Ray Ban prides itself on being an innately American brand. He is the man with such little care that he wears glasses without frames for no reason at all other than he thinks they look good. I ask you, Ray Ban: What’s more American than that?
The dude’s got a way about him. He’s vital. Just ask his team that’s now watching the playoffs from their bison leather couches. You have the opportunity, Ray Ban, to harness and enhance an increasingly likable image that is already being amped and vamped by the likes of Jordan Brand, Nike, and Foot Locker. He’s a wanted man. Strike while the iron is scalding before Warby Parker swoops and strolls in with its oxfords on and nabs him up.
The people do not want another no name model white dude with some five o’clock stubble and a pair of Wayfarers staring at them outside a Sunglass Hut all summer. They want Russell Westbrook in a shirt with more colors than Joseph’s Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, a smile on his face from sea to shining sea, Clubmaster’s on, hanging out on a pool deck somewhere with a drink in his hand and a girl that looks like she was forged in an Anthropologie factory on his arm. Or, maybe he’s in a chair beside the pool and she’s swimming in it or floating on a mat or in an inner tube or she’s laying out next to him or something. She’s probably super tan and has brown hair but, in real life, when people ask what color it is, she answers “caramel”. I don’t know. It’s your ad.
Do the right thing, Ray Ban. He’s there, right under your nose, shining bright like a star. You may need to put some of your glasses on to deal with the glare, but you’re going to want to look.
*Picture above via meganannwilson.com.