A member of BTS named Jung Kook is the rumored face and body of a new Calvin Klein collaboration. Once upon a time, this site would have been entirely on top of this and I’d have been able to give you the complete run-down on all involved parties and appendages. As it stands now, I know nothing about what’s happening from either end of this pairing. But hey, here is Jung Kook in his Calvins, not unlike Shawn Mendes and Nick Jonas and Maluma.
As for this year, I have no idea who is even playing or what Dazzlers of the Day might strut their stuff on the field, and I’m not even all that excited to see Rihanna, but I’m happy to see others enjoy this day. Besides, it’s a chance to look back at all the ball-happy posts we’ve done in service of bowls super and otherwise over the years, as seen in the following links:
Troye Sivan has been featured as a Dazzler of the Day in this post from a couple of years ago, so today’s feature is just a little form of further appreciation for their talents. Unsure of whether they’re the new official face/body of Calvin Klein, perhaps this should be an official audition in the event that they’re not.
Recently featured as a Dazzler of the Day here, Dominic Albano launches his first foray into underwear this week, drawing on years of modeling and fashion experience. His self-monikered line features the sort of sexy designs he’s so proficient at showing off for other designers, and it’s always a treat when the designer can say they have walked a mile in the clothing they are selling.
Albano is coming off a scintillating retro-styled piece for the online version of Playgirl Magazine, and a retro-feel informs the promotional images for his current underwear campaign. The lighting and feel are moody, evoking and playing up the sultry gaze that Albano has come to embody in much of his modeling work. It’s the perfect sales pitch for underwear, which is largely about selling sex, but should also come with comfort and function. Both seem to play a part in the new line, which keeps the flashy and colorful excess of many other underwear offerings to a minimum, relying on basic neutrals and classic cuts.
Centering it all is Albano’s focused determination on building a brand and his familiarity with the product. There is a carefulness and deliberate cultivation of his image, but also a courage in doing things entirely his own way. Check out the new line of underwear at his website here.
Dominic Albano heads into 2023 with a new underwear enterprise, after a year that found him heralding the return of Playgirl magazine with a sizzling cover shoot as their Man of the Month. For both those endeavors, he handily earns this first crowning as Dazzler of the Day. While many admire Albano for his philosophical contradiction of being a socially-introverted superstar, and the heavy weight that goes allow with such an often-tortured personality juxtaposition, he’s also quite easy on the eyes. Dazzlers that dazzle from within and without will always have a place here. Keep your eye out for his new underwear line launching next month – at which point we’ll do another feature on him.
If there’s a song that personifies what my website has been doing for almost an entire double-decade, this may be the one. Courtesy of the adorable Meghan Trainor (who doesn’t get enough credit for her song-crafting skills) give a listen to ‘Made You Look’ which is all about the bait-and-switch of the superficial versus the substance, and that battle has been gloriously waging here since we first went up way back in 2003.
I could have my Gucci on
I could wear my Louis Vuitton
But even with nothin’ on
Bet, I made you look (I made you look)
Given that timeframe, this blog has been doing its thing since before Instagram, Twitter or FaceBook even existed. Those social media outlets took the work by storm, and I use my accounts mainly to drive visitors here, to these blog posts, and the daily writing and photographic rituals that have been cathartic artistic outlets. How to get noticed in an increasingly-fractured and splintered world, where content turns over within seconds, and the average lifespan of a website is under three years. The lifespan of a personal blog is probably much lower. Simply being here, almost twenty years now, is a feat in and of itself, and the recipe for my success is simply making this a labor of love and creative expression. That said, it’s always more fun when guests visit, and to make that happen I’ve employed a simple thirst-bait-and-switch formula, where provocative images draw the viewers in, and then the words, ideally, get them to stay for a bit.
I’ll make you double take
Soon as I walk away
Call up your chiropractor
Just in case your neck break
Ooh, tell me what ya, what ya, what you gon’ do? Ooh
‘Cause I’m ’bout to make a scene
Double up that sunscreen
I’m ’bout to turn the heat up
Gonna make your glasses steam
Ooh, tell me what ya, what ya, what you gon’ do? Ooh
Sadly, I realize that ideal scenario is preciously rare; it’s a losing game trying to convince even my closest friends to stop by these parts. That used to bother me, before I understood how it drove my pathology and inspired me to create things that were worth reading, that would get even those weary and worn down by my antics to take a moment and check in. That was also the sort of guy for whom I fell, over and over: the one who wanted nothing to do with me. When the people who matter most to you don’t seem to notice anything you do, you learn to thrill the world, or you give up on it. For all my jaded cynicism, I haven’t given up on anything.
When I do my walk, walk
I can guarantee your jaw will drop, drop
‘Cause they don’t make a lot of what I got, got
Ladies if you feel me, this your bop, bop
(Bop bop, bop)
I could have my Gucci on (Gucci on)
I could wear my Louis Vuitton
But even with nothin’ on
Bet, I made you look (I made you look)
Yeah, I look good in my Versace dress (take it off)
But I’m hotter when my morning hair’s a mess
But even with my hoodie on
Bet, I made you look (I made you look)
And once you get a taste (woo)
You’ll never be the same
This ain’t that ordinary
It’s that fourteen karat cake
Ooh, tell me, what ya, what ya, what you gon’ do? Ooh
When I do my walk, walk
I can guarantee your jaw will drop, drop
‘Cause they don’t make a lot of what I got, got
Ladies if you feel me, this your bop, bop
(Bop bop, bop) ohh
This little bop reminds me of a simpler time, back when the internet was a safer, softer, sillier place. It gives off a sense of superficial glam, only to reveal something sweeter and slightly more substantial – the hat trick of what has kept this blog going. A bit of a tease, a bit of a please, and a bit of the bee’s knees. Nothing too serious, unless you look beneath the surface. Most won’t bother making it this far, but for those who do, and those who continue to return, I’ll do my best to make it worth your while. If I happen to fail, which will sometimes occur, then I will play this song and try to remember the fun in life, the frivolity, and all the foolishness that once made the world go round.
I could have my Gucci on (Gucci on)
I could wear my Louis Vuitton
But even with nothin’ on
Bet, I made you look (said, I made you look)
Yeah, I look good in my Versace dress (take it off, baby)
But I’m hotter when my morning hair’s a mess
But even with my hoodie on
Bet, I made you look (said, I made you look)
Actor, singer and up-and-coming aerialist Chris Salvatore is a Renaissance man who earns his first Dazzler of the Day thanks to a career of reinvention and evolution. He’s been in movies, television, and live shows, while honing his singing and songwriting (witness some of his popular covers, as well as his original songs, for evidence of his brilliance). He’s also had a line of underwear out, which originally put him on this website’s map. Fortunately for all, he still likes showing off, and his burgeoning OnlyFans site is further proof of that.
“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?”