No Pants, No Service

Land sakes alive, can you believe a clothes designer came up with something called a penis cloak? And then had someone wear it? And because it was worn at a fashion show, someone else took pictures, and then some durn fool put the pictures in an online newspaper.

I almost fell face first into my coffee mug. Here I am depressing myself with news of death, mayhem, and the coming end of the world as I know it and wham! I flip the virtual page and get an eyeful of male private parts. And no, I was reading a national online newspaper, not a porn magazine.

What, you ask is a penis cloak? If I remember right, and no, I’m not gonna look for it online to refresh my memory, it was a sleeveless, ankle length coat with a section of the front missing. 

A very crucial section. 

One that if a guy forgets his pants and underpants, which apparently he’s supposed to do, exposes his private parts.

Lucky me, the photographer was right in front of the model when the picture was snapped. And the model wasn’t wearing a thing under the cloak. Not even a fig leaf.

Who, I wondered, would think this was a good idea? It goes without saying if it’s cold enough for an ankle length cloak, then a guy sure wouldn’t want to have his stuff dangling in the breeze. Then, again, it was sleeveless so I’m guessing keeping the wearer warm wasn’t it’s purpose anyway.

Once I see something like that, it takes dynamite to get it out of my head. Which led me to wonder if anyone in the audience actually noticed the cloak? Or were they stunned into stupefaction, too? Did any of them notice the lines of the cloak? Its fit? The fabric? If no one noticed the cloak, what’s the point? 

Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the idea of a fashion show to, oh, I don’t know, showcase new outfits? And if this fashion took off, which one supposes the designer hopes, would the restaurants have to have a bunch of new signs made up? No Pants, No Service?

It’s times like these that I’m thankful I live in a small town like Tassanoxie. Men might get away with flashing their junk at a big city fashion show, but not in these here parts. One flash, and slam! into the pokey. 

On the plus side, I was so flabbergasted by the photo, I clean forgot about death, mayhem, and the Apocalypse.

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