A variety of Flea-ish outfits by International Male, a once notoriously dodgy mail order catalogue, were field tested by Andrew Goldman for Radar Magazine.
Though I was having difficulty understanding how wearing a ruffled shirt might be considered any more masculine than, say, owning a Persian cat, I surrendered to Doonanís counterintuitive premise. Iíd always fantasized about being that tough, sleazy, straight man, but I never had the confidence to pull it off. I am at heart a highly insecure, fearful person. Iíve strived for invisibility in my dress, chosen conformity rather than running the risk of standing out and being scrutinized for my noticeable physical attributes: recessed hairline, hirsute paunch, one eye that sits on my face considerably higher than the other.
But on this, the eve of destruction of the International Male, I resolved that I would repress those feelings for a full week, wear International Male ó from the white crochet driving hat down to the tan, strappy gladiator sandalsó24 hours a day, and unleash the inner swinger thatís been hip-thrusting within. It would not be easy.
By the time I got to the mesh top ensemble for Jewish speed-dating I was laughing so I could hardly breath. The man is a hero.
Posted by Ghost of a flea at October 20, 2005 08:44 AM
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