As I drove through Kingston yesterday evening, I saw a chap standing with his hands on his hips in just a dressing gown (cheekily hanging open) and festive boxer shorts. He had an improbably muscled torso, with every ripple clearly chisled to perfection. It was a fine sight, but disappointingly only the figment of someone's imagination as a) he had remembered to take his socks off and b) was standing in the department store window.
There's quite a move now for more realistic female models, so how about Bentalls going for the cosy, beer-gutted mannequin, posed, not as if leading the troops into battle (albeit in Santa motif underwear), but slumped on a settee can of beer in hand? How many men are driving round the Kingston one way system, feeling festive and jolly as they start, but end up with body image issues by the time the lights change? Wouldn't the realistic couch potato model help them come to terms with their own inadequacies?
My recipe for Christmas happiness is for all those plastic people to be melted down in a moderate oven, and half way through the process, drag them out again. That way you will get a more realistic representation of the human race complete with sagging midrift and double chins. I hope the Santa boxer shorts have the elastic to cope with the change.
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