heat, beat & ponchos
‘Round this time of year, Québec revels in its modest share of lush tropical-esque weather. Lawn chairs are on the sprawl; Coronas are handy; UV rays toast the toxin-laden sweat out of bodies that took advantage of the balmy air of the night before to guzzle malted beverages like there was no tomorrow. Neo-catholic expletives blow out of mouths hither-tither and dissipate amidst the smoke of the last few King Size Export A’s left. (*soupir* ‘Sti qui fait chaud…) Inevitably, heat in itself is a manifestation of energy: as such, the higher concentration of energy in summer stirs and acts upon all who are subject to its empire. Glands sweat, garbage stinks, skin burns, eggs are readily burned on sidewalks and the heavens bring forward their “best and brightest” thunderstorms in the summertime. Which in turn increases humans’ demand for rain ponchos.
Now I’ve been meaning to let this out for a while. Without further ado, I hereby state my (ambitious) proposition:
“From the industrial revolution onwards, there has been no greater concentration of Beauty (with a capital B) used for the promotion of a single product’s than there has been for the promotion of rain ponchos.“
Agreed, such a claim demands hard evidence. Take thusly into consideration exhibit A:
The suave self-assurance this jock is donning can only impress the pants off the average onlooker. Try pressing the play button on the next Al Green classic and staring deep into his oculars. Shivers guaranteed.
Onwards to exhibit B:
Plastic isn’t only for the solitary wolves hardened by celibacy. All real lovers know it only takes three letters to spell “happiness”: P-V-C. After all, felicity rhymes with impermeability. Check out the dimples on this babe:
You can easily tell that this is what’s blasting in her head:
If you still aren’t convinced that rain poncho models are the lighthouses that guide us safely through dark and stormy nights of doubtful fashion, check out this straight-up G:
This fellow’s yellow and he means business. Ain’t no rainstorm gonna stop him. He’s comin’!
There you have it. Even if the gist of my argument lies in deeply subjective value judgments, I can’t stop myself from thinking that there’s a little something universal in the grace of an elegantly worn rain poncho.
Whatever. Beats and my lawn chair await.