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Adam and I went to the Calvin Klein Underwear show this Fashion Festival. He was acting as our reporter and I was acting as our photographer. OK, we're a website and we really don't have a lot of cash, so I decided to use my digital camera to take photos of the show.
I was directed to the small area in the back where all the photographers were, now there were about 15 other people, whether they were big TV camera people or photographers for the Herald-Sun. Now imagine the situation I was in, there were about fourteen people with some tripped out cameras with long phallic lens and big arse TV camera and then me with my pissy Sony digital camera.
So being my large self I decided to get myself a nice position at the front. I saw some space and went to it but then suddenly these two photographers said "Sorry mate that's our space." They said this like they were in line to god or something. Eventually I found some space to the side of the catwalk.
After a while I was standing there and chatting with a camera man and asking him if I was in his way and he said "nah, that's fine, but I think I need a cattle prod to keep people out of my line [of view]", and we were joking about what you can do and then suddenly from the side another camera man come up and says "We should get rid of you (pointing at me) from here with your toy camera." I responded with "Yeah, why don't you fuck off now". Then the show started with the lovely ladies and gents in some very nice underwear which you probably wear day to day but Adam will talk about that more.
Another fun thing happened half way through
the show when a camera man decided to set up right in
front on me and another photographer and both us together
told him to fuck off out of our way, and he did.
It would seem the prerogative, nay, the duty for intelligent people to make fun of an event that celebrates something as frivolous as fashion. But in the end, I got to look at cute girls wearing nothing but panties, I ate some nice tomatoes and I got a gift pack with some panties of my own, to leave casually around the floor of my room, that I might fool myself and others into thinking that some slim, adventurous lover had left them behind. So I might take the hanger out of them first.
The Calvin Klein underwear show was pretty fast (no more than 20 mins) and didn't show anything special. Sporty, reasonable dainties worn by models in advanced states of ketosis. The men were as follows: The Blonde Surfer, The Rugged Aragorn-Type, The David Beckham One, The Slightly Ethnic Looking One, and The Angry Black Man. So I guess a little thought went into that. The girls were: The Skinny Blonde, The Skinny Blonde With A Pointy Nose, The Very Young, Very Skinny Blonde, The Black Girl, The Large Breasted Brunette and my favourite, The Tiny Euro-Asian Black Haired Cutie. During one bit, the girls came out wearing panties and no tops, and they were holding their breasts and running down the runway and winking at us! Playfully! She wanted to play with me! I winked back.
Then it was all over. We ate some free food (which was surprisingly bad except for the tomatoes, but looked very nice) and pretended like we weren't excited to be at a major event as media while realizing we were both actually pretty excited. Then we realized we actually weren't that excited, and left.
Overall, I would characterize the Calvin Klein Summer 2004 Underwear Range as being functional, colorful, and looking very nice when covering the pert buttocks of tiny euro-asian black haired cuties.
I didn't go to any fashion events this year, but Jake gave me the photos he took. My parents brought me up right, so I refrained from rubbing one out while he was still sitting there putting his camera away. However, Patrick sauntered into the office unexpectedly and caught a glimpse of this piece as we were flicking back thru the shots of the Eurasian hottie covering her breasts with her hands (Jake and Adam named her the winner, but I don't know what it was she won).
Patrick's a weird Catholic prude at the best of times and a politician at the worst, so he scolded us a bit for treating women (or images of women, really) as sex objects, and asked how we'd like it if groups of women drooled over photos of our asses and wanted to have sex with us. Before I could answer candidly, Jake jumped up and started yelling at Patrick -- the rabid foam made it hard to understand what he was saying, but I gathered he was making reference to how he can't help having a sweet ass. Jake is sensitive about his sweet ass. Naturally, Patrick cowered under Jake's steely gaze and mumbled something about how the contribution of Russian migrants to modern Australian society cannot be denied, then quietly slunk out of the room.
Later, while I was formatting this article,
he came back and asked if he could have copies of Jake's
girlie photos, "for purposes of off-site backup",