Dirndls

Or: Ogling in the Süd Tirol. With a limited number of variables present, you tend to pay attention to the details, no?

Towards the end of the holiday, I began to develop a taste for dirndls. Of course, at a time when pop stars can appear in latex in front of audiences whose members are below the age of consent without anyone fainting in disgust, the dirndl may at first appear a quaint tradition, quite overtaken by contemporary mores. That would be a mistake, of course. Consider when the dirndl was once the only kind of skirt to wear, not just a hotel’s dress code for its female staff. With so many dressed in a near-identical manner, details are naturally the best way for people to express themselves and one naturally seeks them out to discover what the person underneath is like. As i drank my coffee, there was time to watch the waitress and observe how the dirndl works wonders even today.

Dress code required a white blouse and the peacefuly gentle folds of the dirndl was offset magnificently by her lycra blouse, the textile faithfully showing off all the gorgeous curves in her arms and shoulders, her gracefully smooth muscles flexing for her. As her arms worked in freedom, I couldn’t help but notice how well her bodice worked to constrain her. Next time I’ll make sure I sit at her table.