Camel

The other day I made a trip over to Cognac to have brunch with a dear friend. Wanting to enjoy the unseasonably balmy weather, I waited outside and indulged in a bit of people-watching. Since the restaurant is as midtown as one could possibly get, there was an interesting mix of people. There were folks leaving the matinee showing of Shrek the Musical, looking up at the lights of Times Square with mouths agape, or heading up to Central Park in a hansom cab.

All of these people seemed like your everyday, run-of-the-mill, standard warm bodies roaming the streets at midday in midtown. But there was one who stuck out, I mean really stuck out. This young lady...and I use that term with a great deal of circumscription...in any case, this young lady was walking down the street in black leggings. No major calamity there. Who among us does not own a pair of black leggings? Let he who is without sin and black leggings cast the first stone. It wasn't that she showed up in black leggings, it's what the black leggings were showing. Her reproductive organs were there for the world to see. Everything! It's not as if these leggings were super tight, they were just thin and reflective.

Some of you are asking, "Style Therapist, why were you even looking?" Why was I looking? It's like asking someone not to look at Octomom's belly during her third trimester. The young woman's anatomy was THERE. She was just bopping down the street in her sunglasses and Urban Outfitters scarf, impervious to what was going on below her southern hemisphere. The fact that the fabric was shiny was not helping matters either.

My beautiful people, the moral of the story is to check and re-check your bits and pieces before you leave the house. Sure, some people enjoy exposing the imprint of their biology and others enjoy looking. These people are called perverts and you certainly don't want to be associated with them. Or do you?