Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I look better naked than clothed.

I swear to god I do.

Can you imagine the injustice?

I've got to walk around, at work, at social events, at formal occasions...looking less than my best. Because it just happens that the way I look best is approved only for the smallest and most select audience. I have to frump around, slumped and slouched and pinched into clothes that never seem to really look right, knowing that I've got something better underneath.

And you know what? I bet there are a lot of people in the same situation. By no means all, but many people do look better naked than clothed. Further confusing the naked/clothed situation is that you can't tell, from looking, who is walking around with their best outfit buried three layers deep.

I've taken life drawing classes, spent time backstage assisting the chronicly braless with quick changes, taped and reinforced and glued people into clothing made of paper and bubble wrap, and gone to a college where clothing was an option not always taken. I've seen more impersonal naked than most people of my experience.

And I've come to the conclusion that you can't always tell. The beautiful girl with the elfin face might have breasts so small and wide-set that her entire torso seems chronically surprised. The broad-shouldered guy with the slim hips and long legs may have his grandad's scrotum between his knees. The girl with the flat wide ass that makes her look squat in skirts may have yards of glowing skin, ankle to eyebrow. You can guess, but there are no guarantees.

Looking better naked or in clothes isn't just about the revelation of flaws, though. It's about coordination, and scale, and vulnerability. There are some people who need something, a bit of cover or color or fabric, a sock or scarf or underpants...not to cover, but to anchor, to contrast, to guard or dignify. Very beautiful looking men are very likely to look better when given something to wear. The frequent soft-core gay porn theme of jeans pulled half down is popular for a reason. Cuts the sweetness a bit. A squeeze of lemon in your diet coke.

I look better naked, I think, because there's something futile in dressing for me. I look out of scale. I can't do sweet and soft because I'm not insubstantial. I'm tall and broad and floaty blouses and soft sweaters make me look less dreamy and more like when Christo wrapped central park. I can't do tailored-sharp because my face is pudding-soft and, despite my occasional tantrums and bizarre sense of humor, I'm about as tough, as down to business, as fresh whipped cream. But naked, there's no way for me to try to be anything I'm not.

2 comments:

Rob said...

I hate Christo, fucking hippie. He should go build a fence on his ass.

Unknown said...

Unfortunately I look better naked. At least I'm the king of privete nudes.