Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts

Impressions: Right Thing to Wear at the Wrong End of the Gun

⊆ 6:59 PM by A. Liebendorfer | , , , , . | ˜ 0 comments »

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/06/world/americas/06mexico.html?_r=1&oref=slogin


Call Colombian Miguel Caballero (miguelcaballero.com) an entrepreneur.  His trendy fashion line appeals to most upper class people around the world.  Sorry ladies, he mostly focuses on men's clothing, but there are some for you in his American Gold Collection and everything is custom-tailored.  And his website is just supremely cool: It's flash-based with quick access to all of his clothing lines and a ribbon of smoke snaking across the background that evokes fantasies of Amsterdam discotheques.

The clothes on his website look promising --at least enough so look at the features and start rooting for prices.  Right down the list: Tailor-made, Thermo-regulating, Flexible, Thin, Lightweight.  Still no price.  It must be so expensive you have to inquire.  The last thing is on the far right of the screen, a table of handguns in ascending "protection levels."

Call Miguel Caballero an entrepreneur; he is the world's leading designer in bulletproof styles.

The clothing, which boasts a trendy European line and a cheesy, rough 'n tumbler American line, is crafted to protect its wearer from most small-arms fire at point-blank.  In spite of what you would think, the clothes look extremely comfortable.  

Don't believe it?


Courtesy of YouTube user VBSdotTV

Don't expect to go out and buy one any time soon.  Price tags for Miguel Caballero clothing can range up to $7,000.  The likely customers?  Presidents, ambassadors, celebrities.  According the New York Times, Venezuelan president Hugo Chávez and Colombian president Álvaro Uribe have already bought.


Impressions: Amazingly Thin = Amazing Relationship?

⊆ 6:32 PM by A. Liebendorfer | , , , , , , , . | ˜ 2 comments »

Photobucket


Everybody, meet Max.  Max is a hunk.  That's what I go to the gym for.

"That's what I should do, Mitchell," I confided to one of my new Scripps friends at dinner, "I should be a sex critic.  Do those even exist?"

This was after he laughed when I compared a girl to bad cigars.

Among other seconds today, I went to my second class of Religion, Gender, and Sexuality (CLWR222).  So far no complaints; in fact, I'm kind of becoming a fan of the class.  One of the articles we had to read was on Chinese lotus hooks, where young girls would have their feet wrapped and bound and permanently deformed.  All this was either to supposedly make them more attractive or to make them physically unable to run away from their husbands as they could not even walk properly afterwards.

The article we read had to do with the fact that girls weren't bound into these hooks by men holding them down, but other woman (mothers, grandmothers, aunts, etc.).  It became so popular that you were a lesser female if your feet were how God gave them.  It's a weird phenomenon if you think about it: a national sadistic fetish. 

At its height, men took an attitude of "let women do their thing."  The article talks about how women doing this to other women fostered in every young girl complete contempt for every other female she would ever meet.

Then you look at fashion models.

For the hell of it, I watched the annual Victoria Secret fashion show a while back.  Some of the women looked like the boys from my high school cross country team dressed in drag.

There's a lot of things unsaid about girls who don't the under-one-hundred-pound mold.  Good things?  The vast, vast majority.  Unsaid?  Probably, and it's best that way.  I can't think of a way I could ever tell a girl I appreciate her for not being superskinny without sounding like a creeper.

Is that message understated, though?  I'm thinking a resounding yes.  Maybe a national holiday is in order?

Sitting in Jefferson with Mitchell, I overheard an overweight gentleman talking about his girlfriend and how they match up in every way.  He was happy and that made me a little happy.  Being a single guy, I pick up well on who's happy with who they're with and who's not, and this chum was on cloud nine.  And the fact that he got past what everybody else told him should look for made me happy too.

There's nothing quite like a bad cigar.  Not that I'd know.


Older Posts