As Grampa Simpson once said: “I used to be with it, but then they changed what it was. Now what I’m with isn’t it, and what’s it seems weird and scary to me, and it’ll happen to you, too.”
So true, Gramps. I recently boarded a crowded train, settled into my two-square-feet of available space, then spent the next 10 minutes face-to-abs with a guy so enraptured by his belly button that he forgot to close the barn door. It’s that Abercrombie & Fitch fellow. I know, I know — it’s summertime on the T — but most of us figure out how to keep cool without exposing our, um, pubic outer boroughs. It seems that while I was busy deciphering ESRB ratings on my kids’ video games, ad folks co-opted the male torso to sell everything from tween clothes to Vaseline.
Back in my day, models came with heads. We had Marky Mark, that SoloFlex chap, and Scott Brown. These were real men. The kind with faces. And arms. And legs. Before A & F, we had the freedom to choose which man-part had the most appeal. Now an art director does the choosing us. Is the next gen really this lazy? Why should I have to figure out which part is sexiest? You do it.
Source URL: https://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/2011/07/29/head-bag/
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