Anatomy of a Wedgie
Justin
Last night I was having dinner with a friend at a new restaurant in Greenwich Village. I had read about the spot in Vanity Fair, since the editor in chief is a partner in the place, and I heard the mashed potatoes were out of this world. I dressed accordingly, thinking what is cool yet classic yet casual? I channel my inner Graydon Carter and don my favorite corduroys, but first throwing on a pair of boxers. And in that, lay my downfall.
So much thought and inspiration from the greats of history and publishing, but no pause to consider the basics. Fast-forward an hour, I’m on the cool yet classic woven chairs like you’d see on the porch of an Englishman’s house in British-occupied India. I’m in my corduroys and white button down. All I need is the pipe and I could be Rudyard Kipling. One more glass of wine and I might start actually believing that.
Anyway, the slope of the chair is just so, and since my corduroys have that kind of soft slickness, I start to slide. As I do so, my boxers take on the shape of Tarzan’s loincloth. I’m no longer Kipling, but a Neanderthal. This type of wedgie can be described as your classic friction wedgie, where if your underwear doesn’t have anything to fight gravity, they’re going to end up somewhere around your navel. Other culprits include the skinny wedgie where if you’re a thin guy, like me, the elastic slips above your hip bones so you end up feeling like you’re wearing a diaper.
For me, the key to combating this foe of comfort, is to consider the move to a boxer brief. With a more fitted model, you can keep everything in place and focus on the conversation, people watching, and mashed potatoes.