Warning: If you’re looking this week for a Barland tale that will leave you with food for thought, and an aftertaste that will make you the wiser for coming here, I suggest you go to my blog roll and click on a title. Because that’s where you’ll find the adults this week, the people with grown-up thoughts, as nothing following this warning qualifies as “adult”. 🙂
Still with me? Okay, you’ve been warned.
So your friendly bartender was doing his job, in stellar form I might add… pouring and chatting to a bar that was three quarters full… when a vertical smile distracted his bartender duties. That’s right, a vertical smile peeking coyly above the waistline of low-rise jeans, packed into which was a daring young twenty-something female.
Is that what I think I’m seeing, I thought, missing the glass by an inch and soaking the bar top, am I looking right now at the crack of that woman’s behind? Why, how shocking! How delightful! How completely and utterly unfair in the overall scheme of things. For how in the hell can I look now anyplace else?
Well of course I did look “anyplace else” as duty eventually summoned, but it wasn’t that long before booty smile dragged me right back. It was just that compelling. And not so much from a salacious standpoint (which I doubt you’ll buy for a second), but simply because I found this exposure remarkable. From the standpoint of brazenness. For how can you simply walk into a bar, or any public place for that matter, and not give a hoot that the top of your ass is exposed? I mean don’t there exist more appropriate venues for this baring? Like the beach, the sauna or a Brittney Spears video? Which got me to wondering. (There’s still some time to tip-toe over to my blog roll. No? Okay.) And here was my wondering…
If it happens to be an acceptable thing for a woman to sport a daring cleavage in decolletage, within reason of course where it’s just a peek not a smorgasbord, then why is it totally shocking to find it in derriere? For believe me it’s shocking. And not just to my roving eye, dear reader, toiling behind the stick, but to all those doing their double-takes walking by her table. And there were double-takes. “Holy shit,” I could hear them thinking, giggling to themselves as they did so, “you can actually see the top of that woman’s ass.” Like she dropped a towel or something.
But it didn’t get this woman into any kind of trouble nor of course was she asked to leave, like she would’ve been asked in the old days I can assure you, it just turned her into an object of ogle and comment. Which is living in the present.
But can you imagine the outrage say in 1945 if a woman wore jeans in the first place, in a night club, that is, and not simply going to a picnic, and she dimpled that statement with two exposed cheeks and a butt crack? Why she would’ve been scandalized. And unlike me in 2011 where we’ve pretty much seen it all, the bartender then would’ve had to jump into action. And do it quickly. He’d either have to ask this woman to leave for offending some of the patrons (“She must be an off-duty stripper, the hussy!”) or wipe that smile from her ass by covering it with a jacket. That’s how big a deal it would’ve been. And the woman would’ve had to oblige or get herself arrested. For if you couldn’t show Lucy and Ricky Ricardo sleeping in the same bed on their weekly television show, they slumbered in twins, you sure as hell couldn’t show the top of your ass at a night spot. Unless of course that spot featured baggy pants comedians. And you were Blaze Starr!
Ah, but here we are in the new millennium in the middle of New York City, reacting with nothing but a wink and a smile without outrage. At least from me. For I’m not one of those to condemn or point fingers, “live and let live” is my motto (or dress and undress however your little heart desires), but I do wish the next time she visits she’d sit with her back to the wall. I have drinks to make and people to see which is all very hard to do while observing that “smile”.
Hello? Are you still there, dear reader? Oh, you’re running as fast as you can over to my blog roll. Hell, who can blame you?