Long-time readers and twitter friends are well-acquainted with my obsession with man-buttocks (for example, see Mr. Beautiful Bottom). So it was only a matter of time before I passed judgment on the D.C. derriere.
And that time has come.
The D.C. derriere?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure that there are some lovely bums in D.C. But nobody ever gets to see them.
This is due to the fact that (hetero) suiting in our nation’s capital is, in a word, tragic.
Unlike the well-reared parisians to which I refer in my post on Mr. Sexy Suit, the men in D.C. hide their tushies away in a box.
The suits here are cut like boxes, so that the men all walk around seemingly unaware that they are bedecked in rectangles.
After five years in Paris, it appears that I have started to embrace european sensibilities about menswear silhouettes.
Where are my delightfully cuppable globes of buttocks? Nowhere to be seen. I am drowning in a sea of ill-fitting trousers, badly cut jackets, voluminous and shapeless button-down tent-shirts, baggy jeans, and squashy looking coats.
Dapper fitted coats, where are you? Trendy tweeds, slick slacks, and fetching footwear, why have you all forsaken me?
In what universe does “aesthetically conservative” mean “frumpy as all get-out”? In the District of Columbia, ya’ll. Right here.
Someone throw me a life-preserver! Save me! Save me from rectangular bums!