Word: claddings
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...pals, I head home to change into proper party attire before the photographer arrives. At the Signet, I went for the simple jeans and T-shirt look, a choice that didn't help my cause. I opt for black "Sorority Girl" pants and a black tank top. Emerging newly clad from my room, I am informed by my roommates that my photographer this evening will not be FM Photography Editor Matthew R. Cordell as planned, but rather his friend, Tad Fallows. Hmmm. Tad arrives at 7:30, and my roommates deem him to be more than sufficiently cute...
Geneticists worldwide took part in a celebration last week that was sure to rival any millennium bash, complete with the pop of the champagne, toasts to the past and the proclamation of resolutions for the coming years. To outsiders, it may have seemed that the labcoat-clad revelers had somehow confused the first of December with the first of January. But for those in the scientific community, there seemed a no more appropriate time to recognize the possibility that the elusive "promise" of the future might be tenable after...
...values, your integrity." (Not bad advice, though it comes from an exfoliating foot cream.) San Francisco's BeneFit, a specialty store that began selling by catalog four years ago, is less earnest but just as zany. The company weighs in with Glamazon, a liquid bronzer that features a bikini-clad Jane swinging on a vine and an $18 jar of "Touch Me Then Try to Leave..." cream...
...recent college graduates who work in the New York office, only two are women. With almost all males, the office has a rambunctious feel--Shemmer slaps his friends on the back and calls them "boys"; another recruit is a "stud." Several of the analysts' cubicles sport posters of scantily clad women, advertisements for a Web site called Bikini.com. "You get a bunch of 22, 23-year old alpha males, you're going to get a certain environment," an analyst tells me. "It's a well-dressed locker room...
...prodigies first and has-beens second. Stuck in the middle are millions like me, living in those awkward years between promising potential and ironic demise. And the parameters of the present keep pushing in. To the tune of discarded disco anthems, our eyes pan slowly from one Gap-clad teen to another, and for 30 seconds we cannot bring ourselves to blink. The teens stare back at us brimming with serene self-assurance, mocking anyone who ever made the mistake of turning 22 and blissfully unaware that 10 years from now, they will be 10 years older...