Human Rights Violation: Bella Hadid Made Her Bodyguard Wear a Business Suit to the Beach
And the material looked preeeeeeetty synthetic to me
Bleakness descends north of the Mason-Dixon Line, but when I looked at my work email this dark Monday morning, I felt momentary peace from a headline. A photo subscription service was popping in to let me know that “Bella Hadid puts on a sizzling display while enjoying a beach day in Miami.” There was a follow-up email too. It said “Part 2: Bella Hadid puts on a sizzling display while enjoying a beach day in Miami.”
Smiling alone, I clicked. This chick sure was sizzling in South Beach in one of the most rocking cool outfits I’ve seen on a woman this calendar year. Every element of this outfit is a slam dunk, and I’m sure me and all the other girls out there could emulate it and look good in this fit in high-to-low adaptation.
But then I looked at the rest of the Bella paparazzi pictures from other angles. Trailing behind her was her security personnel guy, wearing a full evening wear look, at least half a size too big for him, in what was presumably 80 degrees-and-humid weather.
Reader, this is clearly an OSHA violation, if not a case for the Human Rights Watch.
Why is Bella making her bodyguard wear a full business look, tie tight around the neck, when there are certainly more lightweight options, like maybe a Thom Browne shorts suit or a pair of board shorts. If “wearing a suit” is the issue here, why not don a Neoprene scuba look? Is Bella worried everyone in South Beach is going to think that’s her boyfriend if he’s not being fully suffocated by a poly-blend dinner jacket and matching pleated trousers?
The amount of sand her bodyguard must have had in his dress shoes alone. When he arrives back to the hotel, he’ll have to shake the cuffs of his pants loose in the shower before going out because even though Bella paid for his airfare (business class, even!), he didn’t want to push her generosity by checking a bag for a quick weekend trip and as such, he only packed this one suit in his carry-on. Bella’s paying for a really nice dinner, and there will probably espresso martinis, or at least those drinks with dry ice in them. A spectacle.
But he’s uncomfortable in his own skin now, and his clothes smell like salt and sweat. But he can’t speak up, and business as usual is no longer an option when he’s being eaten alive by the salt air.
He starts to worry he’ll be another workplace casualty. This trip with Bella was supposed to be fun; supermodels and bottles. Now, he worries he won’t make it back home. The sand might cover him and the tide could wash him away. He begins to miss his friends back home, and even the bleak choreography waking up on those cold Monday mornings after a weekend wasted to idleness and beers with the guys. He misses morning coffee the way he likes to make it with the one he loves and no sand in between the sheets. He misses the breeze against his lower neck and ankles he took for granted for so long.
