on underwear

there are two things in this world that never fail to make me feel completely irresistible: my black fedora and sexy lingerie.

men have figured out the secrets of the fedora. long have detectives hidden beneath its brim; even indiana jones himself used one to up his charm with the ladies. (and it worked.) it has been proven that my eyes, shielded in the shadows, hold more mystery than a giallo any day. just ask marlene dietrich.

but no matter the extent to which the male species has used the hat to its advantage, it is women (yes! us!) who have exploited the secrets of scintillating undergarments. i can march out of my apartment in old sweats and flip flops, and if satin, silk, or lace is stretched across my behind, i can still rule the world. an omniscient power overcomes me. i know something no one else knows: whether today's choice is satin and navy or simple white lace.

men, you say there is a certain something about a woman that is attractive... something you cannot put your finger on... something that could be called presence. well, allow me to let you in on a little secret. it is simply our underwear that affects our disposition.