That’s Cheeky

We’ve had the opportunity to live the trendy, hip, cool, artsy Brooklyn life these past couple of weeks.  Without actually being trendy, hip, cool, or artsy ourselves.  Talk about fish out of water. And speaking of fish out of water, having lived in the suburbs our whole life, the first adjustment was just city life in general: the sights, sounds, smells, people, and activity of a lot of people living in a concentrated area.  Let alone the specifics of this particular neighborhood, Greenpoint, in Brooklyn.

Walk out your apartment door and there is a plethora of choices before you.  The neighborhood corner bodega which stands cheek by jowl (know that this is actually a pun, which you will soon discover if the blog title already hasn’t give it away) with the fancy organic place that charges $5 for a tiny zucchini that goes by the name Maison Jar (their attempt at a pun).  A Dunkin’ a few doors down from Peter Pan Donuts, the one featured in the Spider Man movie and where there is always a line, but it moves quickly. 

Actually, we learned fairly quickly, if anything is any good, there will always be a line. If there is no line, beware and reconsider your options. We learned this the hard way. There are more bakeries than you can shake a stick at (what does that expression even mean really?) and we were willing to walk a few extra blocks for the fabulous pistachio croissants at Radio, though we were also quite happy with the ham and cheese and/or chocolate croissant at Nick’s, a one- minute walk away.

There are laundromats seemingly every other block, with at least one of those also being a speak-easy, where their backdoor takes you to a bar and a room filled with pinball machines. 

Delicious, delectable, dynamite dining options abound.  You don’t need to leave the neighborhood to experience just about any cuisine of the world.  We had Greek, Italian, Polish, Ethiopian, Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Spanish, Portuguese, and Mexican to name just a few. 

But probably one of the most interesting things were the people.  And their fashion choices.  The first thing you need to know though, is that the presence of me and Ernie raised the average age of Greenpoint considerably.  Bear that in mind as you (hopefully) continue to read this.  Our perceptions and reactions may likely be influenced by our age and our aforementioned lack of hipster coolness.

We saw a lot of young people.  Twenties and thirties mostly.  There were a lot of young families.  Strollers and nannies filled the sidewalks and parks.  In fact, as we walked through McCarron Park, our daughter pointed out the nanny confab happening under the trees in one corner of the park.  They meet there daily. 

It really felt like having a baby and a stroller was a prerequisite for living in this neighborhood.  And there were clearly three brands of strollers that cornered the market in Greenpoint.  Every stroller was either a Nuna, YoYo, or UPPababy.  No one was pushing anything that looked remotely like it came from Walmart.  Not sure what market research and/or branding agency was used when naming strollers to sell to young families in Greenpoint, but they all seemed to use the same company.

But where I am really going here with this discourse, are some of the fashion choices.  No, not even some.  One.  Just one fashion choice.  It was impossible to ignore, baring itself as it did for all to see, and barely qualifying as clothing (do you see where these puns are headed now?). 

It was the micro-mini.  The micro-mini came in both short and skirt form.  It was usually paired with a boot of some kind.  Not really sure what kind of tops it was paired with given the eye was drawn toward the bottom as it were.  Southern exposure, if you will.

There we were one evening, just strolling along the block when suddenly we saw it for the first time.  Well, I should say I saw it for the first time.  Ernie had seen it previously and tried to describe it to me, but I thought he was exaggerating.  He wasn’t.  Hmm, maybe that was the reason for his always wanting to go out for a walk? I think he was averaging 10 miles a day while we were there.

The first thing I noticed was how incredibly short her skirt was.  She was standing up straight talking with the couple of people she was with.  I thought, wow.  That is so short that if she bends over, I will see her butt.  And, as if on cue, she leaned ever so slightly towards her friends, not much mind you, maybe a 20 degree angle? Perhaps even only 10 degree? And there it was. 

Move over under-boob and side-boob, there’s a new player in town. It’s under-cheek.  Two very nice, very pert, non-cellulite, ass-cheeks said hello to me.  I quickly deduced, being as astute as I am, that she was clearly wearing a thong.  My next thought, being the germaphobe that I am, was to wonder what bar she may have been to and what seat she might have sat on, so as to avoid occupying whatever bar stool she may have occupied.

Now, you may think this was just a one-off, as I was thinking.  But no.  There were numerous under-cheek sightings.  It was definitely a trend.

I did ponder if my initial, ‘ew, why do young women have to expose themselves this way’, which to me seems like objectifying themselves, hygiene issues aside, was too puritanical and too indicative of my background (Catholic school) and age. 

I can still see Sister Mary of the Rosary in 9th grade religion class at my all-girls high school, telling us to put a high price tag on ourselves.  She meant relative to retaining our virginity until marriage, but she would most definitely not approve of the micro-mini.  She did after all, write a letter to Mr. Joel, that she read to us in class, about how wrong he was regarding ‘You Catholic girls start much too late’ in his song Only the Good Die Young.  And among other things, admonished him about how beautiful stained-glass windows are and how much sun they do, in fact, let in.

I then thought, perhaps this isn’t objectifying themselves.  Perhaps this is them empowering themselves.  It’s just a little under-cheek.  So what if they are exposing some of their private parts? So what if private parts aren’t private anymore? It’s just skin after all.  It really is just a set of cultural/religious norms handed down to us from our Puritan forbears about modesty, and in particular modesty for women.  You don’t see too much about cultural/religious norms about modesty for men, do you?

But then another young woman walked by in a completely see through top, exposing not just nipples, but the whole aureola. Actually, the entire mammary gland itself.  Who needs a wet t-shirt? Just a see through one works fine.  She did not have it paired with a micro-mini however.  I suppose she didn’t want to cause whiplash by having to focus on two body parts (4 body parts?) at the same time.  Well, excessive whiplash judging by how quickly Ernie’s head spun around as she walked by.  Can’t imagine the damage he’d have done to himself if he would have had to also direct his eyes to her derriere.

Me? I’d like to think of it as empowerment.  And we can dress however we dang well like.  But I will continue to prefer that private parts be kept, well, private.  Now that’s a concept I can get behind.