Latest Column.
Here's my latest column for the Stillwater Gazette. To be more specific, my latest submission to the Stillwater Gazette; it hasn't been accepted yet. I'm hoping it doesn't go "too far," because you all know I hate to push the envelope.
Every Sunday morning I diligently scour the department store circulars that arrive with the newspaper, wire-framed reading glasses perched studiously on the tip of my nose, rubbing my chin reflectively. If my wife asks what I’m shopping for, I have a bevy of boiler plate replies at the ready. “My cardigans are pilled so I’m seeing what’s out there,” or “The elbow patches on my tweed jacket are becoming weathered and it may be time to replace it.”
And of course the truth is I’m looking at the bra and panty ads.
To illustrate just how well I know these ads, I can tell you
that they’re invariably located after jewelry or shoes. Marshall Fields has the best-looking models and the perfume samples contained with the ads make it seem like the women are actually in the room. Sears ads feature robust women possessing an unsettling German female Olympian vibe. Kohl’s ads boast a grainy, non-airbrushed quality reminiscent of burlesque, eliciting a vaguely oedipal response, while J.C. Penney is all about the close-up, just in case one wishes to discover firsthand the thread count of their unmentionables.
Wal-Mart ads feature no underwear models at all since their circulars feature actual employees and, well, who wants to see a Wal-Mart employee in their underwear?
Send those letters to the Stillwater Gazette, attn: Editor.
I asked a female acquaintance if she’s ever been directly influenced by an underwear advertisement. She replied that the ads unfailingly depict women at least ten years her junior who are obviously childless as illustrated by the lack of stretch marks and defiance of gravity. In short, these women can get away with wearing undies that amount to a $40 strip of dental floss. So, the ads have indeed influenced my friend, albeit to initiate a vigorous letter-writing campaign to resurrect the petticoat.
It’s evident that female underwear ads are geared towards men. Madison Avenue research has apparently proven that viewing photographs of scantily-dressed nubile nymphets bearing come-hither looks causes men to purchase the hand tools featured elsewhere in the circular. This stands to reason, given that much of the underwear featured, after being worn for any length of time, could only conceivably be extracted with needle-nosed pliers.
It’s no exaggeration to say that underwear advertisements are every young boy’s initiation into the wonders of the fairer sex. They’re a gateway drug to pornography. I vividly recall being a youngster and thumbing spellbound through my grandmother’s Sears catalog while the rest of the family slept. I was enchanted at just how different those garments looked when not hanging from a clothesline. Having been raised during the heyday of the feminist movement, I heard rumors of women burning their bras, and I desperately sought Smokey the Bear’s direct number to plead “How can I help?”
Department stores can always find reasons to expand their underwear ads. The annual President’s Day sale on push-up bras is a personal favorite. Twelve years of public school somehow glossed over depictions of Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin, in matching baby doll tops, enjoying a playful pillow fight, feathers seductively alighting on their powdered wigs. Some merchants even pay tribute to the Founding Fathers by offering free bra fittings performed by highly-trained specialists, a job which is never advertised, by the way. If anyone needs an apprentice, I’ll bra fit for food.
Father’s Day is ironically the one occasion when a voluminous women’s underwear advertisement is remotely justifiable. After dad has graciously accepted his annual barrage of flannel shirts and Aqua Velva after shave, who could begrudge him for picking up the paper and enjoying photographs of a fetching young lass wearing next to nothing? Someone who doesn’t pester him to take out the trash, who didn’t buy him a size XXXL shirt despite his 140 pound frame, and who didn’t follow up “Happy Father’s Day” with “Can I borrow some money?” No, the only gift provided by the anonymous model is her lithe, minimally-covered frame. “The chores can wait,” she whispers. “this is our time.”
Happy Father’s Day indeed, this will go under the mattress ‘til September when it will be replaced by the 20-page Labor Day bra and panty spectacular.
Underwear advertisements are the last lingering vestige of publicly-acceptable patriarchy. Despite headlines proclaiming continuing advances in women’s rights, newspapers still manage to quietly slip page after page of fantasy fodder into their publications. Don’t let the wafting scent of burning bras fool you. Countless photographs of young women squeezed into breath-constricting brassieres and wholly impractical panties prove it’s still a man’s world after all.
Every Sunday morning I diligently scour the department store circulars that arrive with the newspaper, wire-framed reading glasses perched studiously on the tip of my nose, rubbing my chin reflectively. If my wife asks what I’m shopping for, I have a bevy of boiler plate replies at the ready. “My cardigans are pilled so I’m seeing what’s out there,” or “The elbow patches on my tweed jacket are becoming weathered and it may be time to replace it.”And of course the truth is I’m looking at the bra and panty ads.
To illustrate just how well I know these ads, I can tell you
that they’re invariably located after jewelry or shoes. Marshall Fields has the best-looking models and the perfume samples contained with the ads make it seem like the women are actually in the room. Sears ads feature robust women possessing an unsettling German female Olympian vibe. Kohl’s ads boast a grainy, non-airbrushed quality reminiscent of burlesque, eliciting a vaguely oedipal response, while J.C. Penney is all about the close-up, just in case one wishes to discover firsthand the thread count of their unmentionables.Wal-Mart ads feature no underwear models at all since their circulars feature actual employees and, well, who wants to see a Wal-Mart employee in their underwear?
Send those letters to the Stillwater Gazette, attn: Editor.
I asked a female acquaintance if she’s ever been directly influenced by an underwear advertisement. She replied that the ads unfailingly depict women at least ten years her junior who are obviously childless as illustrated by the lack of stretch marks and defiance of gravity. In short, these women can get away with wearing undies that amount to a $40 strip of dental floss. So, the ads have indeed influenced my friend, albeit to initiate a vigorous letter-writing campaign to resurrect the petticoat.It’s evident that female underwear ads are geared towards men. Madison Avenue research has apparently proven that viewing photographs of scantily-dressed nubile nymphets bearing come-hither looks causes men to purchase the hand tools featured elsewhere in the circular. This stands to reason, given that much of the underwear featured, after being worn for any length of time, could only conceivably be extracted with needle-nosed pliers.
It’s no exaggeration to say that underwear advertisements are every young boy’s initiation into the wonders of the fairer sex. They’re a gateway drug to pornography. I vividly recall being a youngster and thumbing spellbound through my grandmother’s Sears catalog while the rest of the family slept. I was enchanted at just how different those garments looked when not hanging from a clothesline. Having been raised during the heyday of the feminist movement, I heard rumors of women burning their bras, and I desperately sought Smokey the Bear’s direct number to plead “How can I help?”
Department stores can always find reasons to expand their underwear ads. The annual President’s Day sale on push-up bras is a personal favorite. Twelve years of public school somehow glossed over depictions of Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin, in matching baby doll tops, enjoying a playful pillow fight, feathers seductively alighting on their powdered wigs. Some merchants even pay tribute to the Founding Fathers by offering free bra fittings performed by highly-trained specialists, a job which is never advertised, by the way. If anyone needs an apprentice, I’ll bra fit for food.
Father’s Day is ironically the one occasion when a voluminous women’s underwear advertisement is remotely justifiable. After dad has graciously accepted his annual barrage of flannel shirts and Aqua Velva after shave, who could begrudge him for picking up the paper and enjoying photographs of a fetching young lass wearing next to nothing? Someone who doesn’t pester him to take out the trash, who didn’t buy him a size XXXL shirt despite his 140 pound frame, and who didn’t follow up “Happy Father’s Day” with “Can I borrow some money?” No, the only gift provided by the anonymous model is her lithe, minimally-covered frame. “The chores can wait,” she whispers. “this is our time.”Happy Father’s Day indeed, this will go under the mattress ‘til September when it will be replaced by the 20-page Labor Day bra and panty spectacular.
Underwear advertisements are the last lingering vestige of publicly-acceptable patriarchy. Despite headlines proclaiming continuing advances in women’s rights, newspapers still manage to quietly slip page after page of fantasy fodder into their publications. Don’t let the wafting scent of burning bras fool you. Countless photographs of young women squeezed into breath-constricting brassieres and wholly impractical panties prove it’s still a man’s world after all.
posted by Admin Worm at 7:40 AM
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