Boxers or briefs?

By Errol Hendrickse

The importance of looking good is becoming more prevalent in everyday life — the ever-expanding need to look sexier has even crossed over to the male of the species. So I would like to look at the age-old debate. Very much like: which came first, the chicken or the egg? My age-old question is: boxers or briefs? I came across this subject when I was at a dinner party the other night and it reminded me of a situation that happened to me many years ago, which made me wonder which is indeed the more popular male underwear.

I had gone to a house party … now me, I wear briefs, but when I got home the following morning I realised that I wasn’t feeling all that comfortable in my jeans. So after careful examination I realised that I no longer had my briefs on but was in fact wearing someone else’s boxers. To my horror, it wasn’t that I was wearing another person’s underwear or even that I didn’t remember how I actually got to be wearing them in the first place, but more how ugly and uncomfortable boxers really are.

So I went out and asked some ladies on the streets of Joburg what they thought and this is what I got. My first guinea pigs I found at a very upmarket coffee shop here in Sandton, so when I approached them with my best Jehovah’s Witness walk I could sense the fear already building up in them. Then I knelt down, tilted my head slightly to the side, smiled and took my notebook out. At this point they had slight beads of perspiration building up on their top lips with nerves. Giving them an even broader smile I popped the question: hello ladies, boxers or briefs? the one woman responding “selling or wearing?” Once we had regained the conversation after all the laughter it was unanimous: briefs all the way. “No floppy bits for me. I like my men to have a firm sexy look — like David Beckham, as I live in hope. And besides, boxers have that funny flap in front that always allows that thing, pointing at my crotch, to pop out without an invitation.” So two ticks for briefs at that table.

I sat back sipping my now very cold coffee, scouting the room with intent, looking for a few new victims to ask. Just to remind you, I was conducting my research in Sandton. Then from the corner of my eye I could see the dust blowing in the distance, the music from the Magnificent Seven rang in my ears and tumbleweed rolled in front of my table. The waitresses at Tashas scuttled nervously inside boarding up the windows, one poor waitress not quite making it in time and almost got herself trampled to death as she got caught in a clacking troop of stilettos — it was a gaggle of kugels. My dreams had been answered. I thought for my own safety though I would wait a few moments for them to order their decaf skinny, non-sugared choca mocha, fair trade, organic, free-range coffee light in a tall glass, shaken not stirred, thanks sweetie chow-chow anyway now where was I? I moved in with caution, almost getting my left eye taken out by the flick of a newly styled Jennifer Aniston layered-onto-the-face hairdo. I knelt down, swallowing hard, and popped the question. I then had to negotiate the: “What is the difference?” Had my dreams really been answered or was I now being tested by this gift from the universe? So there and then in the middle of a coffee shop in order to research this piece I undid my trousers and did my very first public show and tell. Regrettably I was wearing my Superman briefs — but we won’t talk about that now!

Out of the six … I’d better call them girls … four preferred briefs. The reasons varied from: “There is nothing better than a nice package presented in an expensive pair of tailored designer underwear. You know, before I met my husband I had a liaison with one of those. My husband wears boxers” to “When you go to the gym and a man has a nice body you want him to show off his definition — rather than a baggy T-shirt which clearly means he’s hiding something or has nothing to show at all!”

“However, in boxers’ defence” the one “girl” said rather sternly “yes but ladies what about that horrible crack appeal you get with briefs — which leaves, you know, that mark on the underside … ” Silence fell as you could hear the cogs having to churn and think! “I buy my husband boxers and you know they’re not that bad — you get some really nice ones these days!”

Shortly after that I left, still hearing the cogs turning, but I had gathered another four ticks for briefs, now totalling six, and two for boxers. After several hours of gathering information from women — it was time to get the other side of the coin: the men!

Now picture this — me, Errol J Hendrickse, occupation: life style architect / TV presenter, favourite colour: purple, hobby: homosexuality, walking up to a man in a coffee shop asking the question: “Hello howzit doll — I was just wondering, are you wearing boxers or briefs?”

No need to send me to Afghanistan to report, I was facing the menfolk in Tashas!

So to the music of the A-Team I rushed home, changed from my Versace jeans into my dungarees, from a Kashmir sweater to a pleated shirt, from a bed-head hairdo to a peaked cap. I rushed back with certain cricket paddings in the right places, just in case, and marched to the front! I walked up to a table that had four men sitting round it: I thought great, hit them hard and hit them all in one go. The thump of my cowboy boots — yes I was wearing cowboy boots, it had to be done — went from Power Ranger on acid, and as I got closer it transformed to Barbie wearing flats within seconds. I scampered to the table, readjusted “the box” and was ready for battle. I moved in, adrenaline now rushing through my veins, stepped up to the table and asked the question.

To my amazement a woman at the next table leaned over and shouted: “Neither — commando! What’s the point? It’s like getting a present and now you have to unwrap two layers of wrapping paper rather than just the one. You’ve seen the box now give me the gift!”

I never did find out what the men round the table were actually wearing, but I will let you know about one as he asked me for my number — we have the same hobby! All in all in my research I must say that briefs won hands down, of the fifty people I asked forty-two said briefs, seven said boxers and one commando.

Much love
Errol xx