REMARK
I have the possibility to fly the Cyprus sun next week.
But believe me in my surprise, scanning Instagram for the latest bikini trends, when I’m inundated with photos of underpants.
That’s right, women on the beaches and in the pool intentionally pull their buttocks into their . . . well, her buttocks.
Of course, fashion isn’t about comfort, but is a briefs still fashionable?
Somehow, that stretch of irritating, even painful, fabric that climbs where it doesn’t belong, forcing you to squirm and serve yourself with a ladle to relieve it, is all the rage.
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Try relaxing in a living room chair with something stuck between your buttocks. As for sunscreen and sand. . . it makes you shudder.
Unfortunately, in an Instagram like play, dressed influencers kiss their pants, or “whale tails. “
This label refers to the moment a whale disappears under the surface of the water, leaving its V-shaped tail in the air.
But before criticizing charming models and influencers like Emily Ratajkowski, Zara McDermott and Irina Shayk for creating a monster (sailor), it wasn’t them.
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In the early 90s, models such as Gucci and Jean Paul Gaultier defended jeans from low to low size that gave a glimpse of your t-shirt.
That little tail, a dolphin, so to speak, was all the rage on the catwalks and red carpets. Paris Hilton and Britney Spears enjoyed the look. Today, Kim Kardashian, 40, is paving the way for a queue.
Don’t get me wrong, it looks good. The curly fabric creates a wider butt, while the more exposed cheeks give the ghost a smaller and much larger size to them.
Kardashian, with her army of trainers, chefs, stylists and private assistants, has everything you want to take the best photo.
But for us mere mortals, not blessed with all that help, or the frame of a goddess, the concept of aligning an Insta-snap with your cossie in the middle of your butt is very appealing.
For those of us who already feel like a whale stranded in the sea, don’t worry.
No one is looking at us. They look at the other crazy people with their swimsuits sunk into their buttocks, taking 500 photographs. Now pass me a daiquiri.
This article was originally published on The Sun and has been reprinted with permission.