Dirk Gently referred to the interconnectedness of all things. The Muslims are into women forced to wear the black robes of death. As with everything else, there’s truth somewhere in the middle, which is always taken to extremes by those in charge.
Almost everyone would see that woman in the pic as modestly dressed but the test is simple – what do you notice on her? I first noticed her fairish hair tied up because that was some women in my life I miss very much and the description pops up from time to time through my book. Then that exposed neck for the kissing and the way she’s standing, although that’s partly to highlight her assets of course. The denim-covered thigh does not go unnoticed. And those arms and no doubt the hands – yes, I’d glance to see the ring[s] and then would come her silky voice [always silky at first meeting – the crow comes later]. That thigh is rather nice, come to think of it.
Now sorry, but if she’s trying to make the boobs the main feature, it loses interest – plenty of time for those later, after a cup of coffee, a walk down the avenue and they should be something kept in reserve. Hell, does a general commit all his reserves in the first push? And why can’t she just let her neck and jawline do the job, along with her silky voice, modest manner and smile, let alone intelligent things coming from her mouth?
She’s obviously taken back by Hollande’s attention – look at the way she puts her hands behind her.
I’d like to see our culture embrace modesty in dress and manner, except in the bedroom [on the floor or wherever]. In fact it’s got to the stage now where to have to highlight your boobs to get attention doesn’t say much about the rest of you.
I mean, decent women think posing pouches and so on are creepy, so why not the highlighting of body parts in women? If you go back through the 20s and into the 50s and look at those times, they were hardly a model of propriety behind the scenes, particularly between-wars Paris and Berlin and yet even then, the base attire and the way people dressed and carried themselves had some decency and panache.
If it was only on the surface, well fine – let it be so.
One of the posts which to this day gets many hits here is the Art of French Dressing – less is more – and various other posts on modesty carrying on the theme – that you don’t need to dress in sackcloth but neither need you let it all hang out – the British/US/Australian way. It needs to be subtle, suggestive, creating a need to see inside and if you behave yourself … you might be allowed a few words with her. It swings the pendulum back in her favour.
This is an aesthetic question, even a sociological question, not a religious objection.
So unhighlighted boobs but with a suggestion of cleavage are going to turn men of discernment on more than flopping it all out, as if to say: “Here it is, boys – everything I am and ever will be is up front here. WYSIWYG.”
And it’s not just boys leering anyway, is it? It’s Francois Hollande and every toothless old man quietly salivating at a distance, tongue hanging out and moaning. Does a woman really want that? Seriously? Does anyone buy old farts-young tarts, except for the old farts?
The constant call of “if you’ve got it, flaunt it” shows a lack of style, let alone grace and deportment. Allure is just as much in the deportment, the way of standing, of sitting and walking, of intelligence coming out of that gob rather than the usual drivel [sorry, ladies].
In short, a lack of class. I’m assuming that my fellow men want women of class but perhaps not. And class does not have to mean “expensive” although many women think it does or rather – want it to be so. When a woman’s attire and perfume speak of money, then that woman has little class and most men I know walk the other way.
In Russia, the standing joke is all the gold rings on podgy fingers of rich women. Even being podgy counts because it means you’re well fed and therefore of a certain class. Pity it goes no deeper than that.
Now if you follow it logically – if all that female flesh were not on show, then men would have no walking porn to ogle at nor much real porn and they’d have to actually make moves to get a bit of what they wanted, which in turn puts the premium back on the woman and allows her the say. In today’s free-for-all, where most men assume it’s on tap and it is on tap among a certain type of ubiquitous skank, e.g. Kristen Stewart, e.g Shoshana Clark, then men are not going to make an effort.
A classy woman always has it on tap too but what she has on tap is the best kind of man. And if she wants a rich man, he will want a faithful partner. Can’t have it both ways. And if she’s not interested in any money but her own, then she can lay the ground rules for whatever class of man comes to her. If she lets more than one, then she lowers her own premium.
And by classy woman, I don’t mean any in the public eye, from Mensch to Hilton but the ones in the supermarket who turn the eye and yet they’re modestly dressed and “normal”, “average” in their own eyes, whilst trying to look good. Those are the ones who really turn a man on and there are no boobs hanging out, nor bare legs to the crotch – they’re simply class.
And married with kids. Sigh.
So what an unmitigated load of hypocrisy on my part, eh? Sure I go to Microdave’s and Ranty’s traditional Friday Funnies, I show Wimmin on Bicycles and the female form all over this blog. Last evening, natch, I tuned into the Beach Volleyball and the real Volleyball, for the assumed reasons – who wouldn’t like seeing that before his eyes the whole time? Hey, show me a man who’s made of marble and I’ll show you one of our gay friends.
I preferred the real volleyball. For a start, there were six on each side and not two, they looked much better in many cases – see the post on the volleyball from this morning – those knee-high socks were rather nice and I wouldn’t have minded being that Algerian coach. And I know exactly why he is popular – he keeps his mind on the job and delivers. Except against the GB girls last night, of course.
There was a young woman I was speaking to recently and I actually resented the way she was dressed. Sometimes I wonder how desperate some men are to have to look at all these body parts to get some sort of titillation and this YW had it bad – the idea in her head was that unless she showed cleavage, no one would be interested in her.
And to talk to her, you’d have to keep the eyes averted and she’d know it was a struggle and would enjoy your discomfort and she’d interpret that to mean you found “her” attractive as a person.
No, it didn’t mean that at all. It meant that yes – her bare boobs had that night-follows-day primitive effect but what she’d be mortified to know is that most men would also see her as a potential skank. Turned on but still thinking her a skank. And I, for one, resent this reverse sexism where she’s the one seeing women as a collection of body parts, not me. I did nothing – I was fine seeing her as a whole person. She’s the one who upped the ante – or rather downed it and meant there was no escape.
Now that woman in the supermarket – I just had to talk to her and bearing in mind I’m the last person on earth she normally would, then it took some careful wording to achieve. Pointless afterwards because she was married anyway, with kids. And what of the gum-chewing local girls with the short-shorts, thighs already tending to flab and mascara all over them?
Purr-lease! Someone find me a bucket.
And the problem was that I found Mrs. Supermarket interesting and I think she did in reverse. So what was I going to do – make a play? Hardly, as I’m not into ritual humiliation and someone getting away as quickly as possible, gagging. So it was left as a question mark.
Naturally, what you’re getting in this post are my innermost thoughts, whereas the person most people see in RL is far more chivalrous and decent. I quite like the way blogs can do this. Most people, in RL, conceal their true selves and show a veneer. On the blog, the reverse is the case and you can see exactly how a person is inside. Even those who try to conceal it – reveal it and they are the most fun. By their very closed blog and choices, they are speaking volumes about themselves.
If we found ourselves in some new era of women respecting themselves instead of giving way to unbridled, greedy-eyed “wanting it all”, then the standard of womanhood would improve and with it, the standard of manhood. I really, really want a sea of hard-to-get, alluring ladies out there – an ocean of them, please and a whole lot of real men but the latter’s not really my concern.
Life then would be the infinite pleasure of the game. Always the image remains in my mind of the 70 year old men at the cafes in the early morning in Sicily and I’d say they were more than alluring for many of those women because they looked after themselves and were also gallant with the ladies. And though my condition has dropped off in the UK, I still see those Italian men as how I’d like to be when I eventually reach 70 – if I do.
There needs to be a bit of style to life, does there not?