A recent entry by Amanda Brooks in her blog, "In Her Eyes" on the Men's Vogue website called "Weekend Wardrobe" brought to mind an entry I published this time last year. It was upon the subject on men and summer heat. It is eminently worth reprinting, as blistering temperatures have descended upon Manhattan with the subtlety of Patricia Field's withered cleavage.
From June 2007:
As the old cliche goes, "the heat is on." Sweltering temperatures, humidity, extremely interesting smells; all that makes one flee to New York for the Hamptons, which I shall be doing soon. To my fabulous (featured in Architectural Digest) beachfront home. But for the nonce I am here.
Unfortunately, so are other New Yorkers. The heat must be affecting their minds, because I am seeing body parts--or more to the point, bodies--that were never meant to be gazed upon outside of their abodes. Particularly the homme variety.
Dear readers, you know me as a woman of broad mind and loose morals, but mon dieu! Why in God's name is there a direct equation between the fitness of a man's torso and the amount of clothing he wears in the heat?
1.) Extremely fit - baggy shorts and sleeveless t-shirt
2.) Fairly fit - baggy shorts and tight t-shirt
3.) Flabby - tight shorts and "wife-beater" t-shirt (pardon the phrase, I did not coin it!)
4.) Obese - nearly non-existent shorts and no shirt whatsoever
Spend some time walking down the Upper West Side of New York, or in any park, and you will see what I mean. The more flesh, the less clothing.
You know me as a champion of the plus-sized. But, mes amies, if one desired to gaze upon hairy bellies and flopping hairy breasts, one would go to the gorilla exhibition at the Bronx Zoo.
At least the gorillas are not allowed to smoke cigars.
Must run - my assistant has gotten her babydoll dress caught in the shredder again. Idiot!
Ciao,Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog