"Wow! Whatta Dorcus!"

OK, gang, as you were. This post is not devoted to any assaults on liberty, for a change. This being Friday, I thought I'd draw your attention to something that's both thigh-slapping and disturbing: men's fashion from the sixties and seventies. You'll be happy to know you'll still be tsk-tsk-ing and shaking your head and going "un-fucking-believable," just as you normally do when you visit here.

Today's destination is the inimitable James Lileks' web tribute to that epoch's monstrous menswear. I just spent ten minutes taking in his 'Selections From the Dorcus Collection' and I don't honestly know what hurts the most:

My jaws from the grimacing and laughing;
My throat from the involuntary shrieking;
My eyes from viewing the truly fiendish fashion photos.

Nothing I write could top Lileks' superior wit (two parts David Sedaris, one part eighties-era Joe Queenan, back when he was still funny), so I'm just going to give this over to James himself:

What's the well-dressed professional assassin wearing nowadays? Clothes that reflect his essential traits of cruelty and ugliness, his abberant values and dead black heart — that's what! You might not be a hired killer, but with the Dorcus line of Jackal jackets you can stride onto the tarmac with a look that says: Women fall at my feet. Granted, they are usually bleeding heavily from the exit wound, but that's your style, tiger.

Whole Dorcus collection here. Don't miss the Dorcus He-Skirt, capable of inducing spasms that will tax your brain and body as badly as the neighborhood louts beating your sissy ass if you ever showed up in one.