The thong: the underwear world’s most, ahem, divisive topic, and now a fixture in Adele’s tour. OK, maybe ‘fixture’ is a bit of a stretch (something that the thong is not renowned for), but it definitely got a shout-out while she was serenading everyone into a sentimental oblivion at the O2. After emotionally exhausting her concert-goers with her classic cry-into-your-pillow power ballads, interspersed with some classic belly-laughing banter, our national treasure declared that she was wearing a thong. For the first time in a DECADE! Adding: ‘My arse is enormous so it’s disappeared.’ We’ve all been there, babes.
But what is it about the thong that drives us to retire it to the back of the knicker drawer for ten years? The male gaze? The wedgie? The resurgence in popularity of Bridget Jones’ pants? We thought we’d get to the, well, bottom of it to find out what, in the name of Sisqo, the deal is with thong th-thong thong thoooooongs. Two ASOS writers discuss:
Love live the thong, say writer Daisy: First donned by nude dancers back in the day (1939, to be precise), the primary purpose of our butt-less buddy was to cover the hoo-haa while still maintaining a solid air of nakedness (they were nude dancers, after all). However you feel about this slinky little piece of undergarment wizardry, you can’t deny that it fulfilled its original purpose. But nowadays? Nowadays it is a handy piece of lingerie machinery, effortlessly ensuring that my dignity is intact should I opt for a minidress (cast your mind back to pap shots of Paris, Britney et al unintentionally flashing the foof in their heyday) but material-less enough to ensure that my bountiful ass doesn’t feel smothered by fabric.
‘BUT WHAT ABOUT THE WEDGIES?!’ I hear you cry, confusedly. Donning a thong is kind of like one long residual wedge, expect it’s not really a wedgie: it’s just chilling. It’s parked up your booty and it’s not budging. If anything, it’s less likely to cause chaos than an unruly pair of Bridget Jones’ finest. And the male gaze? I feel incredibly comfortable in my thong (I know you’re finding that hard to believe) and I feel confident in my thong. It is the initial dressing layer upon which I deck out my being in all manner of typically man-repelling threads and, had some dude not apparently provided up with ‘ass floss’, I’d have probably suggested it myself. I’m not knocking knickers – who doesn’t have a pair of period pants? – but I’m totally for the thong, all day long.
So long, thong! say art worked Jessica: Uncomfortable and a little bit unnecessary is how I feel about thongs. RiRi’s bedazzled number, Miley’s Baywatch-esque leotard and Nicki Minaj’s incredibly teeny-tiny Anaconda offering: none of the aforementioned ‘thong moments’ are enough to see me hurtling towards Ann Summers, hastily purchasing a silky thong and opting to wear it. Not even Adele could drive me to inflict that kind of pain to my ass. (Sorry, Adele, love you.) Aside from being the least practical of all underwear choices (‘less is more’ doesn’t really apply here), the thong simply isn’t that comfortable (what with it being up your bum, and all) and – and I don’t want to shock you, guys – they’re not necessarily good for you. Bacterially speaking (depending on your propensity for infections down there, ofc). And they can literally rub you up the wrong way, too. Why risk an infection for a piece of material designed by a guy who NEVER HAD TO WEAR THE BLOODY THING! Bridget Jones’ briefs, brazilians and boy shorts – give me a pair of these any day. Let’s leave the excruciating underwear choices in the 00s, on the backsides of Christina and Britney.