Eye of Newt, Toe of Camel

We live in a troubling world. The Earth itself is throwing elements at us in record numbers, animals are leaving this plane en masse, and we’re still afraid of our own bodies. Despite the increased access and acceptance of vulgarity and violence in media, the fear of sex and sexuality continues to mount. We are much more likely to see a woman cut in half than experiencing an orgasm in our media, and though the adult film and novelty market grows everywhere else tends to have a rod firmly up its ass. In a non-sexual way of course.

Which of course brings us to Camel Toe.

For the uninformed, Camel Toe is a phenomena where a woman’s clothing accentuates her pudendal cleft [which comes from the Latin word meaning "terrific"] to the point where her womanly divide becomes pub[l]ic knowledge. Many consider it a fashion faux pas, and unbecoming of a lady. Others consider it akin to the teaser trailer for an upcoming flick you just gotta see. A select few consider it a non-issue and realize that women are cloven and it’s a natural part of the human form. Gentleman have what is known affectionately as the “Moose Knuckle”, which is the same only a lot more prone to Dali-esque nightmarish variations. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an old Greek man at the Starbucks at eight in the morning sipping espresso while showcasing an apocalyptic dickprint.

But still. Some people take the Camel Toe very seriously.

Enter The Cuchini (tagline: ‘Our lips are sealed’). A device one wears upon their pubis to alleviate the illusion that a woman’s anatomy isn’t an intricate and divided place. It helps foster the notion that the secret places are not defined and accentuated by folds and flaps and nooks and crannies loaded with bountiful possibilities.

It’s a shapeless meat lump. A safe, impenetrable place. Androgynous and pristine.

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an old Greek man at the Starbucks at eight in the morning sipping espresso while showcasing an apocalyptic dickprint.

The Cuchini is a real thing for ladies old and young to wear in order to avoid the awkward moment where someone discovers they’re not a sexless automaton and in possession of toxic levels of vagina- yet another addition to a woman’s list of accessories that exist to hide their humanity. Cleavage inserts, nipple shields, armpit shields, slips, shoulder pads, girdles, and plenty of other creations exist in order to protect, equalize, or mystify. The Cuchini isn’t the straw that broke the (ahem) camel’s back but is yet another case of our bodies taking a backseat to fear and gender politics.

There are occasions where one must paint a professional image but rarely do those situations involve garb that would run the risk of showcasing the anatomy where babies are installed. It seems the market for such a product is the likes of which the manufacturer of Cuchini has a gallery devoted to: Celebrities.

The Catch-22 is that many of these folks need Camel Toe as much as they need talent and good marketing. When the career begins to flag there’s always an upskirt limo exit or Camel Toe shot to come in and remind audiences why they cared in the first place.