“I will add this praise, that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how handsome she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies another way.” ~ Jane Austen
Literary flotsam and jetsam, culled and curated by an eye that wishes to be more discerning than it actually is, float about in these parts like little toothpick boats on a rainy spring day. One never knows whether it will end in a rainbow or a harrowing trip into the sewer of Pennywise the Clown. Some of my blog posts lately have followed similar meandering trajectories. I’ll begin writing and think it will end somewhere that I have in the back of my mind, and then the words take me somewhere completely different, the tone becomes shaded in ways I can’t control, and by the end of what I’ve written, I don’t even know where I am. This is not out of place in the land of 2020. In many ways, I’ve come to accept and almost embrace such an uncertain rhythm of life. It’s a good way of clearing out any remaining cobwebs of perfectionism that cling to the way I go about my days, a good sort of trouble that results in something better.
Messy is the message, downright disastrous is the journey it takes to get to the message, and unexpectedly grateful is my countenance. This may just be the year I grew up a little, and with growth comes a certain amount of pain, and letting go, and none of it regrettable.
I do still love Tom Ford, but rather than the extravagant velvet blazers or pungent Private Blends, I’ve honed it down to a pair of basic black underwear. Simple. Elegant. Minimalist. Refined.
I do still adore a colorful silk scarf, but favor the one I found in Savannah a long time ago instead of something new or of the season.
I do still long for the unknown excitement that accompanies the curtain of a Broadway show I’ve never seen, but I find equal enchantment in perusing a book of paintings while the sun slants through our bay window.
Silly, trifling things, I happily admit, and I am so grateful that they are so.
“I would much rather have been merry than wise.” ~ Jane Austen
Vanity underwear lines often get a bad, if pretty, name. I’m not sure how well such endeavors by the likes of Chris Salvatore, Mario Lopez, David Beckham, Steve Grand and Cristiano Ronaldo are doing, but I know that Todd Sanfield sets himself apart from the rest with years of dedication and investment. As his own best model and spokesman, Sanfield puts himself in and behind his product, and with new varieties and styles coming out, he manages to consistently remain fresh and inspired by something as basic as underwear. That takes an eye for beauty, and a dedication to an under-appreciated craft. Check out his stuff here.
It manages to be elegant and chic and captivating all at once.
Simple yet complex, revealing yet enigmatic, it invites closer inspection, which is the calling card of any successful seduction of the senses.
Does all this sounds as ridiculous as I think it does, re-reading it back to myself? This is one major load of bullocks and I genuinely don’t care. It’s really just an excuse to post some old photos I found in a folder that should have simply been trashed without opening. I forgot the main rule of unpacking after a move: if you haven’t opened a box in seven years, simply throw it out without examination. I’ve got to do that with some attic items or this place will head into hoarding territory.
Now that we’ve had the return of the big JC, let’s get back into the carnal sinning and winning that this site aims to deliver when it’s not all about Christ. To that front-end, here’s a post that celebrates the baskets of gentlemen who have appeared here before, along with the requisite links to more of their junk.
Nathan Adrian brings some Olympic metal (and medal) to these proceedings. He appeared mostly in his Speedo in posts like this and this, and even less here and here.
“If we’re going to have any fun together, you guys had better learn to loosen up.” ~ Lisa
She appeared in a back-lit doorway framed by the magical workings of a fog machine. In a white crop-top, blue jockeys, and the epitome of 80’s permed hair (don’t hate her because she’s beautiful ~ that’s her hair in the morning!) she stole my heart. Not for her physical attributes, charming accent, or somewhat-awkward delivery, but for the way she held dominion and sway over all the men in her path. A creation of two teenage guys, who poured their fantasies and dreams into the precise form of woman that they so badly wanted to conjure, and thanks to some fine 80’s effects ~ Lightning! Smoke! Barbie! ~ lo and behold, Lisa was born. In the form of one Kelly LeBrock, she was a beautiful monster, as exquisite as anything that Dr. Frankenstein might have conjured. This was the world of ‘Weird Science’ ~ a John Hughes movie that came at what many consider to be the zenith of his cinematic contributions. (He would also go on to do ‘Home Alone’ and its ancillary projects.)
Following the Frankenstein metaphor, in some respects Hughes was our generation’s Percy Shelley, populating the 80’s with indelible creations that stomped on the pop culture landscape, such as ‘The Breakfast Club’, ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, and ‘Pretty in Pink.’ With ‘Weird Science’ he didn’t quite create a masterpiece, but that movie has become a cult classic. It might be one of those movies that you had to grow up with to truly appreciate, but think of ‘The Wizard of Oz’ and it’s in good company. (I’m told ‘The Goonies‘ and ‘Adventures in Babysitting‘ suffer similar fates, but I love them too much to care for their cinematic merits. For the crux of childhood and critical appeal, there’s always ‘Stand By Me.’)
“If you want to be a party animal, you have to learn to live in the jungle.”
I think we saw ‘Weird Science’ in the theater when it first came out, because we were allowed to see any movie rated PG or PG-13. Back in those pre-internet days it was much easier to snow parents when it came to things like movies. We could take a title like ‘Weird Science’ and paint it as an educational film along the lines of Mr. Wizard on Nickelodeon, only for the big screen. To be honest, I don’t recall having to even go that far.
Being a rather serious child, I wasn’t all that into the slapstick humor and gross jokes that went into the movie. Being a young gay guy, I also wasn’t all that impressed with Ms. LeBrock’s skimpy wardrobe or sexual innuendo either. I don’t even think I was moved by the men’s underwear scenes. Only in retrospect do I appreciate the wonder of youth, the beauty of LeBrock’s image, and the cheesy 80’s Jockey shorts and crop tops on full wanton display. (I maintain and offer evidence that no one looks good with a bra on their head, as you can see.)
“If you ever get the chance, shower with them. I did. Mmm, it’s a mindscrambler. Hurts so good.”
Revisiting bits of the movie now, I see a certain sweetness and innocence that I maybe missed the first few times around. (This would often show up on television after it came out, and whatever my brother and I were doing would be put on hold as we watched the shenanigans unfold again.) Maybe I’m missing that sense of innocence because of how dark the world has grown. As horrid as our hair and fashion choices may have been, as greedy as the decade may have outwardly seemed, there was still a sense of comfort in the air. Some would argue that there were other horrors ~ and most gay men of a certain age, myself included, feel a vague echo of the AIDS crisis that was just starting to happen then in what is happening today. I’m not diminishing that, but overall it felt like a more innocent world, and perhaps even a duller one. Yet in the very ennui that so many derided, and that ran throughout the 90’s, there was a safety and comfort that would dissipate the instant the twin towers fell. Nothing has been the same since.
But that’s way too serious of a note on which to end this post. I’m in women’s underwear for God’s sake ~ on both heads. And a crop top. And I found a male Barbie fashionista doll to put my own gay spin on things. In these crazy times, some of us reach out in an attempt to make the perfect creation ~ to pour our desires and wishes into an entity that might bring about connection or meaning or, dare I say it, love. How silly that an homage to ‘Weird Science’, shot and written on a spring whim when the world fell apart around me, should inspire such philosophical pondering.
As for how nonsensical this all must look, it serves a deeper purpose for my own journey too – it’s the ultimate fuck-off to a perfectionism I’ve been shirking for the past several months. In that sense this is a bit of a triumph. Rather than doing some suggested exercises like laying down in public to explode my perfectionist tendencies, I’m putting a bra on my gray-haired head, pulling underwear out of my ass, and following a somber post with all.of.this.
“You had to be big shots didn’t you? You had to show off. When are you gonna learn that people will like you for who you are, not for what you can give them?”
In the likely event that you haven’t gotten me anything for Christmas yet, here’s a simple post with a single link that will bring you to the only page you need to bookmark for all my gift-wishes to come true. It’s the Tom Ford underwear page, where any of the offerings will go beautifully with me. Of course, I am particularly partial to all things pink and fuchsia and leopard. As these all run extremely big, anything in a size small will work, and if you send them my way I will work them for you. Here’s the page. Let’s get to it.
It’s always a treat to see someone embody brains, brawn and beauty in one delectable package, but such is the lot of Simon Dunn. Even when he gets serious, he can’t help but be sexy while doing it, and so we have this gratuitous post extolling his glory. Here are a few more choice links to previous posts celebrating Mr. Dunn:
Fueled by some tequila, Liam Payne moved into a new comfort zone with this photo shoot for Hugo Boss, and I’m told more is on the way. He previously gave a nude sneak-peek of things in this post, and he’s already been a Hunk of the Day when we had such things, so the only way to gain a second crowning is to doff it all… stay tuned…
