Something Savage Kitten said yesterday made me realize that I am indeed a pervert. And I’m comfortable with that, as it also clarified that I am not a degenerate.
It all has to do with clothing.
Like many men, I am a bit of a slob as regards my personal appearance. As long as I’ve shaved recently, am fully dressed, and don’t reek too ferociously, I feel confident and comfortable. Pants that aren’t raggedy or stained with coffee and spaghetti sauce, shoes that aren’t falling apart, and a clean shirt that has all its buttons – I’m good to go.
Women, on the other hand…….
Fortunately, the craze for muffin-top pants seems to be dying down, and it’s been ages since I saw a plumber’s crack on a young lady. There are still far too many girlies exhibiting their tattoos and piercings, but even that has diminished somewhat – there’s no point in showing off what an original and unique free spirit you are when everyone else also has sunburst tattoos on their rump, a rose next to their belly button, and five pieces of metal in their face.
This year’s excess is cleavage.
Blouses with such low necklines that I can see all the way down to your belly button.
What on earth happened to shirts that simply looked clean and neat?
You know, Oxford cloth. Why can’t women wear nice normal clothes? What happened to looking like a scholarly young miss or a serious young lady?
There is nothing quite so darling as a girl wearing a shirt. However it is worn, whether tucked into a pleated skirt, or casually over jeans, or even quite informally – bikini briefs, a man’s dress shirt, luscious young legs, hair slightly tousled – the effect is exceedingly feminine. There’s just something about the way cotton shirt cloth falls that makes it perfect. Twixt statuesque and huggable. Classic, and classically adorable.
Plus the fabric contrasts so very nicely with the skin!
Silk, and fine lace edging, are also in this category; they too pair perfectly with the dermis.
Wool, not so much.
Trampy thin material that isn’t opaque, while it lets all of us elderly creeps know your exact bra size, is not recommended. Deep décolletage, unless you’re trolling for desperate married men, just isn’t suitable. Not around the office, nor in the cocktail lounge.
The dress shirt, by its clean crisp appearance, suggests that there are still secrets that you keep, and hidden charms that might be discovered upon closer acquaintance. Advertising all your attributes from the outset strips you of any mystique, and suggests that there is nothing else about you worth discovering.
Like the naughty black lace garter belt, whose presence may be inferred from the way your stockings pull, your girlish cleavage and youthful curves must be covered.
A bonbon should be wrapped, not exposed to flies.
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It takes about five hours for the twitchy ache in my lower legs from the amlodipine besylate to diminish sufficiently that I can sleep. I ti...
2 comments:
Unfortunately, women are at the mercy of clothing retailers/designers, and their own figures here.
As a real hourglass, I find it hard enough to find shirts that actually cover my cleavage - if I want a shirt that reveals that I do, in fact, have a little waist hidden in there, I'm scrounging through racks of things cut so low I wear tank tops under them for most of the year. My fashion options seem to be tank vs. tramp.
Almost makes me think I should start sewing my own clothes.
Mi aerodeslizador está lleno de anguilas!
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