An intrepid British reporter went undercover as an in-store model at the new London branch of Abercrombie & Fitch, a brand that, in Izzy’s mind, is popular with obnoxious, spoiled frat boys despite—or because of?—the explicit homoeroticism in its advertising and store displays. (The flagship store on New York’s Fifth Avenue features a giant mural of barely-clothed men climbing ropes in gym class. At many stores, the women’s department likewise features smutty photos of nymphets. Not for nothing has the brand been called Abercrombie & Filth.)
While interviewing for the job, the writer, presumably as ripped as the in-store living mannequins above (complete with matching widow’s peaks, areolae, and angular lower abdominals that come to a rude vertex), discovered that
no pants on subway
Be afraid, for today is No Pants Day. Started by some college kids, the “holiday” is an insolent affront to all that is good and decent. Izzy, for one, has locked himself in his chateau to protect himself from these descendants of the sans-culottes.
