I'm just so fascinated by this picture. Is it the painter's pants detail and the illusion of white paint? Is it the way the lower legs seem to be breaking up like a bad hologram? Is it the blue face? The oh-my-kidneys pose?
I don't know but the link took me here, where I didn't see the particular outfit, but I did see some clothes with the brand Fear of God — which is either blasphemous or nicely associative with the sexy idea of putting it into you — and some pants that I find simply hilarious.
Like a child playing dress-up with daddy's pants.
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"Like a child playing dress-up with daddy's pants."
More like a daddy playing dress-up with his baby's pamper pants.
Pshorts
The most striking thing about the photo to me is the fold in the left leg of the jeans that gives the illusion that the leg is not continuous.
Those ankles (in the bottom picture) are alarming. Look at them!
Ladies, are either of those guys fuckable? If so, how do you feel about cub scouts? At least their dicks are probably shiny pink.
The top photo is the "Come Hither, Chickenhawk" pose.
The bottom are NAMBLA pants.
You could hide Secrets in those pants.
I am Laslo.
Hideous.
Although, the Barney's window designer is tres famous and hilarious.
tits.
I do pick up three or four blouses from Barney's a year-I feel obligated.
So this nice man gave me a ride, and took me out into the woods. Then he wasn't such a nice man. I remember the shovel, mostly.
Eventually I was able to loosen the rope around my wrists and climb my way out of the dank dirt hole I was left in. I then crawled through the woods in the rain on my hands and knees.
Eventually I came upon a man painting a shack.
Turns out he wasn't such a nice man either.
I awoke, stumbled out of the freezer he had put me in, and took the duct tape off my mouth. There was paint on my pants, my skin was blue and my hair was sticky.
I made it to the highway, where I hitched a ride with a photographer, who took me to his Studio. He said my look was Perfect, and took some photos.
And that is how I became a Male Model.
I am Laslo.
Gays, designed by and for gays, I guess.
Barney's has fallen to great depths of bad taste. It's not a child dressing up in daddy's pants, it's a child dressing up in grandma's pants.
Brooks Brothers isn't what it used to be, I blame the Italian owners. but they are not depraved.
I've never understood why 1%s would buy pretend working man's clothing. New pre-worn out work shirts and pants or ruin a pant having a friend splatter paint ala Pollard on them and a new pair of All Stars. Is it some kind of signaling?
I went back to wearing five pockets (corduroy, twill, even denim, occasionally)after maybe twenty-five years of thinking them inappropriate for a fully grown adult.
But I will not wear a t-shirt. And running shoes are for running.
I'm not in high school anymore.
Mr. Cobblepot, influenced by zombie chic.
I wouldn't wear pants that are winking at people behind my back.
Now I understand the new "Male". Do not like what I see. Weak kneed and weak chin. Just plain Weak.
Their motto: "Pants for men who aren't afraid to cry."
The lad in the first picture is unrealistic, not drawn from life as it were, for three reasons -
- he is short at least 50 pounds
- the stripes
- he's not Mexican
"Their motto: 'Pants for men who aren't afraid to cry.' "
I hope so - cause you could beat up wearing something like that in the fifth grade here.
The backside of those khakis are winking at us.
Check out the Fear of God diagonal-cut fly. Just where is this guy’s johnson located?
Myself, I prefer pirate-type pants, cut a little higher than in the image, right below the knees. I suffer from hyper-circulation of the lower extremities, a condition my support group dubbed “Hot Calf Syndrome.” It has gradually crept down to my ankles and feet, thus my penchant for Sperry flip-flops. Sometime this elicits stares from passers-by but that could just be my companion animal, a rescued Spotted Hyena.
I figure we won't be seeing this stuff offered on the Carhart rack at a Travel America Truckstop.
It's been said that marketing is about selling the sizzle, and not so much selling the steak. With that in mind, I sometimes try to imagine how costly status goods might be priced if they were displayed at a Goodwill thrift store instead of at Barney's, assuming in both cases that they are in "like new" condition.
Unfortunately that is impossible to imagine for that "Paint-Splattered Carpenter Jumpsuit" as I doubt Goodwill would accept it as a donation.
The perspective on the blue man seems totally off--like a Picasso maybe. Also, he looks dead.
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