Category Archives: Underwear

The Evolution of David Beckham’s Bulge

Despite our in-flux status, or perhaps because of it, this seems as good a time as any to examine the evolution of David Beckham and his briefs-encapsulated bulge. God knows we could use the hits… The featured image above is the first time many of us got a glimpse of Becks and his balls, and it remains iconic. Compare that to the one below, in which he appeared with his wife, Victoria (who will always be known as Posh in my book). As much as I love her, I’ve cropped much of her out.

A few years pass before his latest venture, his own line of underwear for H&M. As disappointing as their first offering was (fabric and fit was all wrong), I may have to give it another go, even with the unfortunate mustache that accompanies the new promo images. The Power of Beckham in Briefs. It’s very real.

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Zac Efron’s Wet Tighty Whities

From Mr. Efron’s next movie, something about a Paper Boy. Zac Efron in underwear AND Nicole Kidman? I may be sold… 
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The Bulging Briefs of David Beckham

It may be blasphemy to say this, but is it really all that? Here is David Beckham in his tightey-whitey briefs – a product of his current Bodywear line for H&M. I managed to snag a few specimens last time I was at the mall (there wasn’t exactly a line or shortage for Mr. Beckham’s underwear in upstate New York), and my first impressions were not anything to blog about – at least not in any glowing-review sort of way.

The fit and design were flat, as if someone had simply taken two pieces of fabric shaped like briefs and trunks and simply sewed them together. There was no room for contours, no consideration for bulges or packages, and that’s the death-knell for a decent pair of underwear.

The trunks ride up on the thighs, which, if you don’t mind it, is not the worst thing in the world, but what’s the point of trunks if they’re just going to slide themselves into briefs? The briefs were better suited at staying put, but only because the fit was so tight.

Even the logo bothers me, with its Tom-Ford-wanna-be font, pierced through with an off-centered hole-punch to signify his football glory. It feels like a concept that fell slightly short of its goal, not quite abstract enough to arouse interest, but obscure to the point of annoyance.

If this is what I have to put up with to get into Beckham’s drawers, then I’m perfectly content with keeping them closed.

 

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Day of Departure

There’s no sadder morning than the last day of a vacation or trip. It’s part of the reason I book a morning return flight or train trip, or trudge to my car before the sun rises – the quicker it’s over, the better. Sometimes I’ve even left Boston at midnight, just to avoid the next sorrowful morning.

I know it’s just time games and mental tricks, but I don’t like saying good-bye, and that last day always seems like one prolonged farewell until I get home again. Who wants that feeling to last?

Yet over the years I’ve learned to slow down a bit, take in those final morning moments, even delay a departure to make the most of the day. It still weighs inevitably on my mind, but I’m coming around to a more leisurely approach to leaving. Sometimes, those last precious moments are the most memorable part of a trip – an early brunch, a morning stroll along the beach, or just another round of the snooze button – made more-so by their suddenly-fleeting nature.

Some people, myself often included, are happiest when in-flux, when we’re going or coming, en route and on the way. For us, the journey is the destination, and every minute spent waiting for a flight or dozing on the train is one of blessed relief from the usual drudgery of non-motion .

If I had to travel for my job, I might feel differently.

For now, the thrill remains, and the last morning will be met with both sadness and a smile.

 

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A Pigskin Ball, A Helmut, A Jockstrap, & A Marabou Robe

Let me be frank: there are only a few balls that I’m adept at handling, and none of them are made of pigskin.

I’m much better suited to donning a marabou-accented red velvet robe and making silly faces.

 

Stay tuned for more Superbowl madness – coming up next are the promised jockstrap shots. The things I do when Madonna is in the game…

 

 

 

 

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Tebowing

Tim Tebow will be playing in today’s Superbowl game. I knew little to nothing about him, including this particular pose, for which he is apparently renowned. My brother taught me how to do it yesterday, so here’s my virgin Tebowing effort. PS – Turns out it’s nothing like Teabagging.

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When Beckham’s Bulge Gets Boring

There will always be some sort of cheap thrill to be gleaned when David Beckham shimmies into his skivvies for a photo shoot, and especially when he releases a line of “bodywear” under his own name. Given that he’s done just that, and we are about to be deluged with an avalanche of moody black and white photos showcasing his shirtless physique and cloth-bound package, I thought it would once again be like those heady (and ballsy) days of that first Armani underwear campaign.

For someone of his stature to front the original promos with his prominent bulge bursting forth in a tight pair of white briefs was bold and brazen. Instantly iconic, the above pic solidified his gay-pin-up status then and there. In the ensuing ads, artfully styled and lit, he continued to go where no man of his fame-level had gone before.

Now, he has released his very own line of underwear, and the first set of ads has premiered. My reaction: one big yawn. In the same way that Mario Lopez played it safe with his debut underwear line, Mr. Beckham seems to have misplaced his balls (metaphorically at least, as they’re still very much front and center in these pics). 

Beckham simply opts for the ubiquitous gray backdrop, and himself front and center. This would be fine if there were something more exciting to sell. Dull color selections, and even duller styles, do not make for a splashy entrance into the design world. There is nothing very imaginative or exciting about these pieces. Given that they are being sold as bodywear, there may be more of a sense of function rather than fashion to them, but come on – the majority of buyers aren’t going to be soccer-playing DILFs – they’re going to be urban gay guys who expect a little more bang for their buck.

I’m not going to lie and pretend that I’ll never look at Mr. Beckham in his briefs again, but as far as getting excited over this latest batch of bulges, the thrill is gone.

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Harry Judd Gives Good Attitude

My virgin brush with the UK Publication Attitude came in 1997 when I was visiting London for the first time. Finding this magazine in the midst of my coming out process was a fortuitous bit of timing and destiny. Since then I usually check it out whenever I find it at a newstand, mostly for its eye candy and cheeky British writing.

This month’s issue features Harry Judd. I have no idea who Harry Judd is, nor does it really matter. He’s in his tighty-whities, and he fills them out quite nicely. Enough said.

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Mario Lopez in His Own Underwear

Mario Lopez is apparently launching his own line of men’s underwear. Ho hum. I say that while not being completely unimpressed with Mr. Lopez’s obvious physicial attributes. Hell, I’d kill for those abs and that chest, not to mention the arms and legs… but I delightfully digress. I just don’t get the point of a new men’s underwear line if this is it. Briefs and boxer briefs – how utterly and unapologetically original. And that ‘cute’ waist band slogan – nothing but embarrassing. If I’m trying to seduce someone, I’m not going to wear underwear that says something in hand-printed block letters. This isn’t grade school.

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When I Go Commando

 

It is entirely possible to inadvertently go commando. Let me explain by going over a bit of my daily routine. Every night, before I go to bed, I lay out whatever outfit I’m going to wear the next day. This saves time in the morning, and makes for better decisions. (Here’s a helpful hint going out to several of my co-workers: if you pick out your outfit in the light of the previous day, it saves so much heartache. For all of us. Especially those that have to look at you. I can’t tell you how many people apparently get dressed in the dark. Navy will never go with black. Ever. Personal opinion only.) But I digress…

When the morning comes, and I head into the bathroom for a shower, I bring in the outfit for the day and set it down, closing the door behind me and jumping into the shower. If I have forgotten to put a pair of underwear in the pile, I am always – always – too lazy to go across the hall and find a pair, so I simply go without. That’s how I end up going unintentionally commando now and then. Sometimes, it’s a nice change-up.

It’s the little thrills that matter.

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My First Awards Dinner

The Pride Center of the Capital Region celebrated its annual Awards Dinner this past Friday at the Hilton Garden Inn in Troy, and I was honored and humbled to be chosen as their ‘Volunteer of the Year’ for my work at the Romaine Brooks Gallery. The only glitch was that I was expected to make a little acceptance speech – and I do not do public speaking. However, right before we left for the night, a rainbow appeared over our front yard, so I took it as a good omen and started getting ready.

The trick to pulling off any decent outfit – and to feeling confident and secure in said outfit – is to start with a pair of underwear and socks that make you feel good, and as if you have a secret that no one will know about. In this case, a bright canary pair of Emporio Armani briefs and some matching argyle socks from Hugo Boss provide the necessary shot of fun to counteract any insecurities. And they’re my secret boost of confidence needed to pull off The Suit.

Yes, it’s a little bit plaid. Yes, it’s a little bit garish. And yes, it’s a little bit questionable – but for all those reasons and more I loved it. But what I loved more was the fact that some of my favorite people got to be there with me that night, including my Mom and best friend Suzie – who surprised me with a trip up from Brooklyn. I normally don’t like surprises – at all – but this was a good one, and Suzie always sets my mind at ease. It was exactly what I needed as the minutes leading up to the Awards ticked on, and my heart started to beat faster and faster.

According to the schedule, I was going to follow the Paul Postiglione Youth Services Award, given to Joshua Dunning Powell. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Powell gave the most moving and powerful speech of the night, recalling his days as a bullied child, and how no one had helped him. The whole room was choked up, and I was on the verge of balling. It was incredible – and easily the moment I would take away and remember from that night. I looked helplessly over to Suzie as if to ask ‘How the hell can I follow that?’ and chugged a glass of wine.

Luckily, there was a Silent Auction interlude, and some fundraising to be done, that both distracted and lightened the mood before I had to accept my award, and thank God. The always-entertaining Penny Larceny introduced me, and before I knew it I was at the podium.

“The only thing I hate more than public speaking is a pair of crocs,” said the man in the plaid suit, and then I quickly ticked off a brief list of people who helped me in managing the gallery, and then I was off. It was the briefest of speeches that night, but I survived it and could enjoy the rest of the evening worry-free.

And it was indeed a grand evening. Being that this was our first time attending the Pride Center’s Awards Dinner, I didn’t know what to expect. Surely not so many wonderful, supportive people from all communities – and certainly not so many moving moments that made me proud to be a gay man in the company of such fine citizens.

The best part of the night was seeing my family and friends gathered together to support me. That meant more to me than anyone would ever guess. Thank you Mom and Dad, Suzie, and Andy

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From Briefs to Boxers

Most guys (straight guys at least) don’t change their underwear style too often. They find something that they like and stick with it – forever. I’m not that way. I’ve been known to change up my underwear hourly if the situation arises (don’t ask). In the last few years, though, I have seen subtle patterns in my underwear-wearing emerge, mostly due to the seasonal variations of the Northeast. I hadn’t really noticed until I started getting into the boxer briefs this week and then it dawned on me. From now until the winter, there will be a gentle transition from briefs to boxer briefs to regular boxers.

The main difference between briefs and boxers is a delicate differentiation in comfort and temperature. I liken it to the distinction between gloves and mittens. Gloves, while form-fitting and tight to the skin, are actually less warm than mittens in the winter. The same principle seems to apply to briefs – which seems at odds with what most people might think. I find that boxers – like mittens – are a bit warmer. Body heat and humidity get to move around a bit, instead of being whisked away by the capillary action of fabric fibers close to the skin.

Yes, this is a shoddy bit of science, probably none of it true – but mind over matter. And, as always, style over substance. As long as my underwear matches my outfit, I’m happy. Onward to the boxers!

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Disrobing for a Day Nap

Our place in Boston is a second-story floor-through -meaning it has windows in both the front (living room and kitchen) and back (bedroom and bathroom). As such, we are fortunate to have a bay window that lets afternoon sunlight into the bedroom, flooding the space with light. This is one of my favorite places to take an afternoon nap. After a few minutes of reading, I find it easy to slip into snooze-mode for a couple of hours, even in the bright sunlight.

 

It is quiet here, too, despite being in the middle of the city. When I worked for John Hancock I sometimes made it home for lunch, luxuriating in the mid-day quiet, pausing in the brief respite of peace. It was – and remains – a restorative moment and place. (These days I wouldn’t make it one-sixth of the way to Boston on my lunch half-hour, but on long weekends it’s a manageable, easy trek.)

Sleeping in a bed bathed in sunlight is its own priceless excursion. In the simple there is so often the sublime, and I didn’t even have to leave my bedroom to find it.

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Novak Djokovic Strips to his Underwear

This is Novak Djokovic on some Montreal runway. He is a tennis player, I believe, from Serbia. Personally, I’ve had a thing against tennis ever since Wimbledon pre-empted ‘Days of Our Lives’ one summer. I also have a thing against short robes on men. Luckily Mr. Djokovic didn’t keep this one on for long. The black briefs are much better.

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