Of seeing France and underpants (or lack thereof)

There are things to be said about decorum. Observing proprieties and the little gestures that comes with being civilized avoids all sorts of bad press. In every and any aspiring well-bred lady or gentleman, there certain rules which could be considered paramount:

1. Chew food with one’s mouth closed.

2. On public transports, it behooves one to offer one’s seat for those who needs it (i.e. the elderly, handicapped, etc)

3. Say Please or Thank you as the situation warrants.

4. Don’t flash your undies or privates to the unprepared masses.

Ever since kindergarten, we’ve always made fun of those who has their fly undone, or the girl who didn’t realize her raggedy bra strap was showing, or bustling corporate woman with a fire-fighters’ ladder in her stockings but nowadays the rules seemed to have changed.

To put it simply: The more you show, the better it is!

One would be tempted to blame advertisements, fashion magazines and Hollywood style icons for influencing us. It would seem that some of the more fashion forward of us delight in flouting rules of comportment and gently-bred etiquette that we end up being inundated by unwanted sights of branded/designer labelled underwear peeking—make that jumping!—out from low-slung jeans, skirts, shorts and whatnots.

If you're lucky, you'll see the underwear. The more severe offense would be an exposed posterior cleft or -- and I'm trying to be delicate here! -- mons pubis.

Sans follicles.

Yet I hesitate to point towards a certain blond heiress and her fellow starlets/socialites for flashing us with her denuded Venus mound in several paparazzi shots. One could almost feel sorry for the young woman. Truly. All that work put into plucking herself like a game bird and all she had to show for it was the first page in the tabloids to be made for office water-cooler gossip.

Yes, we know your Versace thong goes well with your skinny APC jeans … we don’t need to see what colour it is, the material it was made from or the size written on the label! And yes, we applaud a woman (or man) who takes grooming seriously. We just don’t need to know you’ve embraced Brazil’s namesake when it comes down South! And we know you apply the same deforestation policy to your rear, we just don't need to see how squeaky-smooth it is ... What are you trying to do? Turn us into crack addicts?

Lackaday. Whatever happened to the times when men dress as men, women dress as women—without sacrificing their identities or wallets whilst going about it? I appreciate a well-pressed shirt, a pair of slacks creased just so, the charming flirt of a well-turned blouse … but alas, they’re now relegated to those deemed too frumpy to warrant a notice.

Here's hoping the Gossip Girl guys don't end up exposed as male waxing fetishists!