Will Viktor get me laid?

YOU wouldn’t miss it if you’re like me who would always snatch a glimpse of himself in any reflective surface. The mirror speaketh loud as if to convince you to believe the harking words etched on its face.

‘A pair of Viktor can get you laid…” it sez.

Wipe the cynicism off your quizzical face, look at the bright side and give hope to the style-deficient and the fashion-depraved. For the horizontally-challenged and the flair-impaired, Viktor deserves some slack.

In our narcissistic pink world, you can get joy in a bottle, glow in a (lip-and-cheek stain) stick, a good tan in a foundation, and now you can get laid too—thanks to a pair of pantaloon. Let’s concede, sistahs, in fashion what you wear is who you are. Designers are hailed as sanctified icons and a good label can be your ticket from the hot clubs of cool.to the hedonist’s bed of sham.

It hits me: status goods are the new aphrodisiacs.

Just like any status accoutrement, a fashion aphrodisiac is a whimsy bourgeois acquisition. The protagonists of so-called good taste and the pseudo-purveyors of style would say that the price tag is the undisputable status trademark. When you wear your aphrodisiac, make sure to send in the clowns and sing the chorus on your way to the cash registers “…isn’t it rich?!” Dahlin’, status goods should be indispensably expensive!

A pair of Viktor jeans seems to be the coolest acquisition of the moment. Its wide variety of textiles and colors—from stark black to earthy tones of mocha and camel to immaculate whites—Viktor offers, not only a pair of jeans, but the promise of, uhm, ‘getting some.’ Never mind the tacky Japanese cats waving by the store window or the letter dishes bought on sale from the nearby Podium kitchen shop, Viktor jeans are custom-made, ergo, they should guarantee to hug your gonads and invite others to do the same.

The catch is in the tag: a whopping five-oh-oh-ouch! Five thousand pesos is enough to make you squirm (and probably churn out a silent scream!). Let’s do the math: A pair of Viktor jeans is equivalent to a three-month worth of gym bill (with unlimited emote sessions in the sauna). A pair of Viktor jeans is commensurate to one hundred cups of short Americano with white mocha at Starbucks. A pair of Viktor jeans can feed a family of ten for a week.

Is it worth it? Go figure. Will Viktor get you laid? Are you willing to pay—literally—the price? In the words of The Beautiful Gretchen, “They are verrrry expensive!” I dunno with you, but my virility is packed elsewhere than my wallet. And you say you don’t pay for sex. But that’s another story.*