man up.

male models. does this term make you think of an American fragrance dude posing intently at you, like he wants to have your children, oiled with a brunette Guess woman on his bed in the background? well, if yes, not only are you an elaborate over-thinker like me, you are completely normal. unlike me. if not, i have a whole lotta respect for you.
the majority of us immediately think of male models as men bordering on metrosexuality or overly-macho, tabloid-typecasted examples, your pink-shirted, Calvin Klein-cled bunch.
they've all been packaged enough that they now remind me of specimens from a Britney Spears filmclip. ew. but then again, those men are not about the clothes.
so let me salvage your minds with a new concept of boy posers. their look is particular in uniqueness, fresh and true. this man is a modern gentlemen who wants to have a definitive style and ease to his aesthetic; he is not trying to be a perfect example of a certain group of men, but is an honest individual. it's less about masculinity, more about how he inspires his voyeur. more daring than dashing, these men try to cultivate you as opposed to catering for you.
i'd crap myself everyday at work if i had to be a model caster, because they have this inherently tricky task of striking the balance between man and cloth, trying to keep the basic appeal of the clothes intact without the person overshadowing this with their large eyebrows or muscled limbs. a very hard task indeed. it seems it's becoming more about the man of late, with many local advertisements and new models cropping up which promote real men.
i probably know what you're thinking - Dove campaign. well, yes it is in a way, just not as aspirational and definitely not as sales-driven. even internationally-acclaimed men's magazines like Fantastic Man and Jefferson Hack's Another Man are jumping on the rusty bandwagon. and it shits all over your lacquered hardwood one.
Gen Y's may just throw their fist in the air with me on this one. for me the strongest modern male figure is one you can relate to, the boys who are not really aware of their beauty, the Alfalfa kiddies (without looking like Alfalfa) who didn't get asked to the school disco by a girl. this ease and naturalist approach to not only fashion, but their life, is what maked them so modern. you often find them on buses, or concerning themselves with tunes at indie gigs held in your town's arteries - hell, they even buy gear from op-shops. and that says a lot for a guy today. it says they're not going to be all GQ on us and are willing to wear a shirt that is ripped unintentionally.
thank. you.
you could say Australia is a pioneer in this morphing view of men in fashion modeling. random and absurd (bordering on 'hippy') as it may seem to the common housewoman or man, favouring consumerism over almost anything else, it is a painfully realistic concept that points us in a bloody good position as far as eradicating Britney Spears' boys from the species goes.
i'm sorry but men who bring new meaning to the phrase 'disco balls', plus lads, are not even in the same country as this ball park of men. (it has to be said, they need to be shot).
men need to be men, not Ken dolls - or walruses for that matter.



i found MY store. you know that store that defines you, or as Mitch interestingly puts it "it's like they manifested a part of your brain!" - yes indeedy i found that store! it's called Desordre and they travel around Australia setting up camp wherever they see fit...i say this with an air of annoyance BECAUSE they're just so damn incredible with their Willow, Natasha, Aje, Maurie and Eve and Ellery wares that it was pure fate that we glanced over and saw it there all amazing-looking next to a gay bar on oxford street. Desordre was so unsuspecting yet alluring and we went in only to find a massive wall of colour painted on with faces and objects that i can't recall because i was heart attacking at the time. the whole store wasn't a store, it was a warehouse. a house for wares. and wares they were. lingerie was draped from wooden beams, beautiful lace dresses and studded silk singlets made a massive imprint on my psyche. a poem or mantra or something was painted on a window at the rear of the house and odette and i stood there reading it out aloud as if we were reading from a prayer book. ahhhhhhhhhhhh how can this place exist?! things are only this good in dreams!
kids look at this site/blog/supernatural force that is desordre. i'm sharing with you, this is how much i love you - i have no doubt in my mind that i'm gonna regret airing my little secret!