This morning, while running, I met a group of young, dashing Europeans coasting down Harlem Hill. Tall, dark, built like steeds, like a Polo commercial with a dash of Versace thrown in.
Their lime green and French blue shirts lit up the dawn’s sky, while their hindquarters sat snugly in crisp, black, cotton shorts. But it was what they wore beneath them that got my attention. Black three-quarter bike pants peeking below their folds.
Rather than be strangled by a jockstrap locking their balls in, that must be torturous, they were packed up like lunch to be enjoyed later.
Have you ever really examined a jockstrap? It’s one of the ugliest contraptions ever made. You’d think Gucci, or Tom Ford, when he designed for Gucci, would have created a better one by now. One with silkened Velcro gently gracing one’s genitals.
I appreciate a man who prefers not to be bouncing about with balls without shocks, so we could do a little better for him. Makes you wonder what astronauts use. Maybe NASA should consider doing men’s wear.
In any event, this group of stallions had the right idea…let’s hear it for modesty with a touch of flamboyant flair.
Fashion, with all its quirks, will forever turn my head…sigh.