Johnny, your clothes are making me uncomfortable. Please take them off.
This is a picture of Johnny at the Toronto Film Festival. It looks like he’s wearing more than one shirt under a vest, under several scarves, under a jacket. Frankly, the look just isn’t working for me.
What if one day, after a long day of stalking, I find him in a charming dead end alley in the old town of San Tropez? Our eyes lock and he knows that he must have me now, quickly, before the prying eyes of the paparazzi catch us.
He kisses me deeply and rips my bodice off. I want to feel his heaving chest against mine and start unbuttoning. And unbuttoning. And unbuttoning. Damn, some of the button holes on this particular shirt seem smaller than the buttons! And unbuttoning. Crap, my hands are getting tangled in these scarves! And unbuttoning. Just as I feel the hard outline of his massive belt buckle, flashbulbs start popping and the moment is lost.
So Johnny, darling, please rethink your wardrobe. I’m not being shallow, just practical. And if you insist on the layered look, I’m thinking zippers might be nice.