Brief Grief
Underwear. Bunching, riding, chafing, constricting, ill-fitting underwear
BY JEREMY HANNA
Standing slightly over six feet tall and weighing in at a modest 162
pounds, I have never considered myself a freak of nature.
Bill Blass begs to differ.
Oh, it seemed like a good idea at the time. There I was, mulling over
the racks of boring white Fruit of the Loom underwear when my eyes
happened upon the bold, bright prints in the fashion section. Always the
sucker for the visually interesting, I decided it was time to dole out the
extra cash and live a little.
Hmmm, let's see. What size should I get? Well, regularly I'm a small,
so that should about do it. Unsuspectingly, I picked out a particularly
colorful set, paid for it and went home.
All right then, there I am with this box of briefs and nothing to do
but watch the news, so I figure I'll try them on.
In case you've never bought designer underwear, you usually get three
pairs tightly rolled up into separate little underwear burritos. As a
result, the first task must be to straighten them back out again.
This accomplished, I hold them up and look at them. Yes, they are
bright, even cheery, but something is definitely wrong.
The word small springs to mind.
Much, much too small.
Perhaps, I think, trying desperately to allay my fears, they're made
of some amazingly stretchy fabric.
I try them on.
They are definitely not made of some amazingly stretchy fabric. In
fact, they are made of a fairly tight weave cotton with just enough Lycra
to pay lip service to the idea of form fitting. They not only don't fit,
they hurt.
Maybe medium would be better. Since most places do not make a point of
accepting used underwear, I'll be buying another box. Not that it does me
any good. They don't fit either.
All right, large then. Nope, not a chance.
Since I have not as of yet been able to find a pair of extra large
designer underwear I cannot say for certain that they shouldn't fit. I
suspect, however, that even if I could find a pair I would run into the
same problem because at some point the issue is not one of fabric, but of
design.
Not one pair of designer underwear I have tried on has made any
concessions to male anatomy. Castrattos would be uncomfortable in
these things.
Now I am well aware that fashion is about appearance, not comfort. But
at some point it would seem that the latter should take precedence. For me
that point is my underwear.
It's not as though anyone sees them. I have never gotten a job because
of them and I don't honestly see myself applying for a position where
snazzy yellow bikini briefs would help me successfully navigate the
interview process.
Besides, while there are many things that I want from my clothing,
reduced sperm count and dull testicular aching are not among them.
Still, this experience has explained much about the fashion industry
that I didn't previously understand. Like why high-end clothing designers
speak and walk the way they do. Why male models are incessantly pouting
and why people at fashion shows look as if something terrible may happen
at any moment.
It's all due to underwear. Bunching, riding, chaffing, constricting,
ill-fitting underwear.
Since I've never aspired to be a fashion designer and I'm not a
particularly good pouter, I guess it's back to the not-so tighty whities
for me.
Jeremy Hanna is a health physicist who lives and works in
Columbia.
