At 7:49PM last night, the New York Observer made a discovery: "There are different kinds of hotness." Sometimes you want to bang a clean lady. And sometimes you want to bang a "dirty girl," as epitomized by Peaches Geldof, apparently.
Like all uncouth youth phenomena, "the neighborhood of Williamsburg, Brooklyn" invented the concept of dirty sexy things. The Observer dispatched a reporter to observe red-blooded men interacting with the unwashed jezebels of northern Brooklyn:
Late last week, in a moment that feels particular to the neighborhood of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a girl in her early 20s with long, seemingly unwashed brown hair, stained denim cutoffs, scuffed boots and a loose white tank top that exposed lacy bra straps rode by on a bicycle and caught the attention of a 31-year-old man.
"There are different kinds of hotness," explained her admirer, who preferred not to be named. "Sometimes you see a woman and you think, 'My God. I would do anything to take that woman out to a nice meal and see if she's crazy enough to think I'm nice and marry me someday.' And then there are times you're walking home and you step into a bar and there is this chick in the corner and I can go home and have sex with her for a weekend. And those girls radiate that."
Luckily, the scourge is ending:
Perhaps that's exactly what the Dirty Girl look is, then: a phase, no different from mean boyfriends or naval piercings, that will always define a time in young womanhood and that, inevitably, passes with time.
Phew. As soon as we get past this angst, America can finally finish going through puberty and get on to the promised land of boring mid-life married-with-children sex. [Observer, image via Bauer-Griffin]