Since I resurrected some of my previous writing in my last post I thought I would continue with this lazy trend today. Here's an article that was published in the Sydney Morning Herald way back in 2004. Just for the record, I remain as loyal and committed to the fight against the g-string (or thong), as ever. Please join me in my crusade.
Bring back nanna knickers
You know exactly where you can shove your G-strings, says Janine Harrison.
Most fashion trends come and go, leaving behind only a few embarrassing photos. Others wedge themselves firmly between the cracks in our lives and settle in for the long haul. The G-string is one of these unlikely fashion survivors, and I for one would like to see it ripped out of the collective consciousness once and for all.
When the G-string first nudged its way into our underwear drawers and our hearts, it seemed like a harmless enough fad. It was a little bit risque and looked great on the beautiful people in TV land. There were even a few ordinary folk who donned the G-string in their daily lives, most of them making sure that everybody around them knew about it. These were the types that loved to lift their skirts at parties and thought nothing of flashing their assets in the middle of the pub.
But then something strange happened. Previously sane people started to buy into the fad, and before long a large portion of the female population was sporting these crevice creepers. To make matters worse, the G-string was not content to remain hidden in the underworld, but insisted on poking up above the waistline of clothes, announcing its tawdry presence to all.
How did it become so powerful? How can a garment that offends all notions of comfort, decency and basic hygiene, and which only looks good on 00.001 per cent of the population, be allowed to continue its reign? In a nation that just voted John Howard back in for a fourth term, this is probably a pointless question, but still I must ask it.
Now, I don't want to come across as completely anti-G-string, because I do believe they have a place in strip clubs and Paris Hilton videos, but not on the woman bending over in front of me at Woolies.
There was a time when I put aside my misgivings and tried one out for myself, but this lapse in sanity can largely be explained by an overindulgence in Tim Tams, which meant every pair of knickers I wore ended up going the way of the G-string anyway. It took only a couple of hours of extreme discomfort for me to realise the error of my ways and make a pledge to fight this evil whenever possible.
These days, I'm content with my full-bottomed briefs and will segue gracefully into nanna knickers when the time is right.
If I had to pin down the greatest crime of the G-string, it would probably be the damage it has done to the image of these trustworthy old favourites, which are now seen as unflattering and dowdy.
In writing this I call for a return to a more enlightened era, when nanna knickers were the norm, the wedgie was a source of humiliation, not a fashion statement, and people's undergarments remained precisely that. Women in the '60s burnt their bras as a symbol of liberation and it's high time the G-string met the same fiery fate.