Fametracker - Heidi Klum vs Bras
Let's be honest: it's easy to hate models, or at least to dismiss them. From time to time, you'll hear someone complain about how certain people -- the elderly, the obese, those misguided souls with stand-alone mustaches -- are the last bastion of socially acceptable scorn and discrimination. But when it comes right down to it, besides fascist dictators (too easy!), is there any group more mockable than models? Most of them would be considered gawky, scary, or downright mantis-esque in the real world, sans makeup and stylists, and they're not exactly known for their wit or eloquence. (Remember watching Cindy Crawford and her mega-mole trying to seem laid-back as host of MTV's House of Style?)
Yet models are rich and thin and coveted and coked-up, like we all wish we were (well, sorta). Our jealousy could be phoned in from a tin can on a string. We certainly never thought we'd be making a case for how much we like one of them, especially a German spokesmodel for that uber-overrated purveyor of slut-chic Victoria's Secret. Still recently, when we read that Elizabeth Hurley hosted the British version of our favorite fashion competition/personality train wreck, Project Runway, we suddenly felt angrier than Nina Garcia locked in a room full of cowl-neck sweaters.
"Liz freaking Hurley -- how could they?!" we fumed. "Why can't Heidi do both shows? She's European!" And sure, she's got three kids, but how much time and energy can that hosting shit really take? A few "auf weidersehen"s, some "I don't really love that"s, a well-placed "We question your taste level," and before you know it, you're home eating bratwurst and bonbons with Seal!
Huh. Well looky there. We had no idea, but it seems we heart Heidi. When did this happen? Perhaps it was after we read the August cover story of Jane, in which Klum describes herself as taking shit from no one and loving muffins so much that pals started calling her Muffin. Awesome!
The Case For Bras
Holy underwire, where to even begin? We know there are plenty of cultures (tribal, hippie) that survive just fine without bras, but we don't live in those cultures and, frankly, we so do not want to. Not even to visit.
We shudder to think of our world without bras -- a world where, if we did shudder, things would jiggle unattractively. We wouldn't be caught dead running any marathons (and that goes double for cheering at such events, since no bras would mean bleeding nipples on women as well as men). We would be slaves to gravity. We do not want to be slaves.
Then again, without bras, this commentator wouldn't have the mortifying memory of being a third-grader (nine years old, people!) and having my dad say in his Texas twang -- in a public restaurant in front of my stepmom and sister -- that he thought it was time for a "brassiere." For me, not him. I also wouldn't have the uncomfortable-yet-liberating memory of relaying the story, as his truck backed down the driveway, to my mom and hearing her voice crescendo as she spat, "You can tell your father sometimes I DON'T EVEN WEAR A BRA!"
But family fun aside, bras are beyond essential. They lift and separate the busty. They pad and push up the flat-chested (unless you are confident enough to own your flatness, in which case, more power to you, Gwen Stefani). They can be sexy or functional or both. Sports bras make Title IX possible.
Sure, the uni-boob is an abomination, and if we see one more woman in a halter top/clear-strap-bra combo we will scream. (Specifically, we will scream, "Clear does not mean invisible! You can't have it both ways, lady!") But if it weren't for bras, those of us with fuller busts than, say, Runway designer Laura Bennett (i.e. everyone, including men) would have to walk around with our arms crossed over our chests at all times. We prefer to have our hands free for bass playing and inhaling chips and salsa, thank you very much.
The Decision
At the risk of having our Fametracker credentials revoked, we will now tell you, dear readers, something scandalous. Since moving to Chicago in June, we have been entirely without television! It's true! We have a TV set, yes, but without an antenna or cable connection, it functions solely as conduit for Law & Order and Simpsons DVDs.
We admit this unthinkable tidbit only to make the following information more impactful: we have not missed a single episode of Project Runway all summer. Moreover, we have seen some twice, maybe three times. Runway is the only show we currently watch with religious fervor, and despite frequent trips back to Texas, every Wednesday we find a way. That has to count in its hostess's favor, right?
Still, even if the case for Klum is stronger than we first thought, it's time to state the obvious: this is a patently unfair fight. We have a woman who looks fabulous in a bra versus the brassieres themselves. Bras may not make the rest of us look like supermodels, but they sure do enhance the confidence of women and the fantasy lives of men everywhere. As my friend Amber so succinctly put it, "bras totally kick Heidi Klum's ass."
The lacy black ones look so fetching peeking out from under our ripped up rock-n-roll t-shirts. And Heidi Klum won't stop things from bouncing while we vigorously brush our teeth (now there's an image for ya) or when we're pogo-ing around our apartment to the new Thermals record. And in the end, what good is life if we cannot dance with reckless-yet-boob-supported abandon?
The Winner
Bras
Yet models are rich and thin and coveted and coked-up, like we all wish we were (well, sorta). Our jealousy could be phoned in from a tin can on a string. We certainly never thought we'd be making a case for how much we like one of them, especially a German spokesmodel for that uber-overrated purveyor of slut-chic Victoria's Secret. Still recently, when we read that Elizabeth Hurley hosted the British version of our favorite fashion competition/personality train wreck, Project Runway, we suddenly felt angrier than Nina Garcia locked in a room full of cowl-neck sweaters.
"Liz freaking Hurley -- how could they?!" we fumed. "Why can't Heidi do both shows? She's European!" And sure, she's got three kids, but how much time and energy can that hosting shit really take? A few "auf weidersehen"s, some "I don't really love that"s, a well-placed "We question your taste level," and before you know it, you're home eating bratwurst and bonbons with Seal!
Huh. Well looky there. We had no idea, but it seems we heart Heidi. When did this happen? Perhaps it was after we read the August cover story of Jane, in which Klum describes herself as taking shit from no one and loving muffins so much that pals started calling her Muffin. Awesome!
The Case For Bras
Holy underwire, where to even begin? We know there are plenty of cultures (tribal, hippie) that survive just fine without bras, but we don't live in those cultures and, frankly, we so do not want to. Not even to visit.
We shudder to think of our world without bras -- a world where, if we did shudder, things would jiggle unattractively. We wouldn't be caught dead running any marathons (and that goes double for cheering at such events, since no bras would mean bleeding nipples on women as well as men). We would be slaves to gravity. We do not want to be slaves.
Then again, without bras, this commentator wouldn't have the mortifying memory of being a third-grader (nine years old, people!) and having my dad say in his Texas twang -- in a public restaurant in front of my stepmom and sister -- that he thought it was time for a "brassiere." For me, not him. I also wouldn't have the uncomfortable-yet-liberating memory of relaying the story, as his truck backed down the driveway, to my mom and hearing her voice crescendo as she spat, "You can tell your father sometimes I DON'T EVEN WEAR A BRA!"
But family fun aside, bras are beyond essential. They lift and separate the busty. They pad and push up the flat-chested (unless you are confident enough to own your flatness, in which case, more power to you, Gwen Stefani). They can be sexy or functional or both. Sports bras make Title IX possible.
Sure, the uni-boob is an abomination, and if we see one more woman in a halter top/clear-strap-bra combo we will scream. (Specifically, we will scream, "Clear does not mean invisible! You can't have it both ways, lady!") But if it weren't for bras, those of us with fuller busts than, say, Runway designer Laura Bennett (i.e. everyone, including men) would have to walk around with our arms crossed over our chests at all times. We prefer to have our hands free for bass playing and inhaling chips and salsa, thank you very much.
The Decision
At the risk of having our Fametracker credentials revoked, we will now tell you, dear readers, something scandalous. Since moving to Chicago in June, we have been entirely without television! It's true! We have a TV set, yes, but without an antenna or cable connection, it functions solely as conduit for Law & Order and Simpsons DVDs.
We admit this unthinkable tidbit only to make the following information more impactful: we have not missed a single episode of Project Runway all summer. Moreover, we have seen some twice, maybe three times. Runway is the only show we currently watch with religious fervor, and despite frequent trips back to Texas, every Wednesday we find a way. That has to count in its hostess's favor, right?
Still, even if the case for Klum is stronger than we first thought, it's time to state the obvious: this is a patently unfair fight. We have a woman who looks fabulous in a bra versus the brassieres themselves. Bras may not make the rest of us look like supermodels, but they sure do enhance the confidence of women and the fantasy lives of men everywhere. As my friend Amber so succinctly put it, "bras totally kick Heidi Klum's ass."
The lacy black ones look so fetching peeking out from under our ripped up rock-n-roll t-shirts. And Heidi Klum won't stop things from bouncing while we vigorously brush our teeth (now there's an image for ya) or when we're pogo-ing around our apartment to the new Thermals record. And in the end, what good is life if we cannot dance with reckless-yet-boob-supported abandon?
The Winner
Bras
posted by Richie at 5:02 PM
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