Darn those L.L. Bean catalogues! They make me feel like I’m cheating on my husband. Where do they find these gentlemen, anyway?
Women around the world know that the L.L.Bean catalog is the male equivalent to the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. We don’t need our gentlemen in underwear. I’m thrilled to see a man in corduroys peeling an apple on the back porch of a rustic cabin. (That lucky, lucky apple peel.)
Clearly, the ad agency knows what I want. Men in flannel shirts cutting down Christmas trees? Yes, please. Men with bulging muscles, hoisting life boats ashore? Uh-huh. Men in shawl collar cardigans cuddling yellow Labrador retriever puppies? Be still my heart.
Most male models in magazines look like boys who have been caged like veal. They have no muscles. They have little hair. They look sad and malnourished. (Clearly, I don’t like veal.) I’ve never wanted to date a Prada model. Nor, have I ever seen a Prada model building a dock on a pristine Maine lake.
Most mainstream male models always seem a little too primped and a little too performance-driven for my tastes. I always wonder why everyone is always wearing sunglasses with their raingear. And what’s with the jumping in the air? Where are the puppies? Where is the lumber? Where are the lifeboats?
Yep, I’ll buy multiple oatmeal Henley shirts for my husband as long as L.L. Bean will continue to feature men peeling apples on the porches of their restored farmhouses. Even if he doesn’t wear them, I can return them and request another copy of a new catalogue. I can never have enough copies.
