What the world needs is more nipples

I was sitting in the apartment, nursing yet another cold, flicking through a copy of French Vogue, recently acquired from my flight to Paris. The City of Love. Love of fashion. Love of wine. And apparently, love of nipples.

Turning its pages slowly, allowing myself to be filled by the genius which is French Vogue, I was jolted out of my fashion stupor by the sight of Daria Werbowry’s pink nipple peeping out from a jacket which had carelessly allowed to slide off her shoulder, exposing her breast.  There was seductive expression on her face saying ‘And so?’, as she let a cigarette dangle precariously from her fingers while bringing it to her lips.  I blinked a couple of times. I looked at it closely. Yes, that was her nipple. And yes, that was a cigarette. Oh my.

Perhaps my media-saturated eyes have been conditioned to the overly politically correct filter of New Zealand, where the glamourisation of smoking cigarettes is highly frowned upon, and the showing of nipples is in poor taste, and is reserved for pornographic material. Even the leading men’s lifestyle magazines in New Zealand, though have plenty of scantily clad women in g-strings, high heels, and the occasional whip, have the illicit nipple is tucked out of sight. The French censorship committees have obviously ruled in favour of the nipple and the cigarette. I applaud them for the former, however I can’t help but admit that though, I whole-heartedly support anti-smoking campaigns and its slogans, Paris is the one place in the world where I would argue that smoking IS sexy.

A few pages after the Daria indiscretion, I was propositioned by another nipple, this time by a svelte and completely nude model, as the Health and Beauty section started in the magazine. She was positioned strategically on a profile, the body oil she was slathered with accentuating every curve (yes, though long and lean, this model had curves) every muscle, and everything there was to be a healthy, confident woman. Nipple and all.

This isn’t the first time I have been accosted by the French nipple. In the December issue, I received as a cadeaux (a gift) a 12-month 2010 Calendar which featured Natasha Poly, Iselin Steiro and Raquel Zimmermann. These models, had the privilege of exciting you for the whole year wearing nothing but metallic-coloured panties and posing with various light fixtures for the whole 12 months. Now you and I know that there is very little that one can hide behind a 3-foot halogen light bulb. I believe it was only in August 2010 where nipples would not be displayed, because Natasha would be covering her areolas with nipple tassels for the month.

Initially thinking that maybe this ‘gift’ would have been better appreciated if it were attached to a copy of the December GQ magazine or FHM, I wondered why these 22 nipples would be thought of as appropriate for the female readership which ardently follows Vogue. And what about Daria? And the naked bronzed goddess? Their nipples couldn’t possibly have been accidental. Yet, as I flicked through the calendar slowly, I, for the first time, noticed how incredible sexy these women were. Yes they were tall, yes they were thin, but they also had very small breasts. A-Cup. Maybe even AA. But they were still beautifully sexy. The perfectly natural roundness of their breasts was beautiful, especially when they smoothed so delicately back in to the body. No artificial lines or bumps stood between the breast and the body, just one beautiful piece of velvet perfection. Their skin seemed so slide gracefully from their décolletage down to their breast, which turned up slightly at the nipple, which only small and natural breasts can do. You seemed to be able to cup them in one hand gently yet hungrily, the same you would hold your hands if you were thirsty.

For the first time, I saw small breasts as sexual, as feminine. And it took a nipple for me to understand this.

Being Asian and of a very small frame, I have lamented for years my lack of cleavage. Push up bras, water bras, tape, even chicken fillets (silicon breast cups, which you stick onto your boobs,) I have tried it all. I thought that with bigger breasts, I could feel, and be more sexual, and more feminine. Now earning a decent salary and having easy access to overseas doctors and hospitals which can do breast augmentation for a fraction of the cost compared to back home.  Bangkok maybe.  Even Slovakia.  Despite knowing the possible risks of rejection, inability to breastfeed, loss of sensation in the nipple, I have seriously considered altering my body to appease these insecurities.

However, after being exposed to the nipple from French Vogue several times, my understanding of what it is to be sexy seems to have been redefined. Small breasts are sexy. Why did I not see this before? Because nipples were nowhere to be seen. All I saw of small breasts in fashion stories previously was the lack of definition in a bikini top, the lack of curvaceousness in a corset, the lack of fullness in a backless evening dress, or an overall androgyny which comes with a flat chest. If I saw the nipple, it was only in porn, or highly distasteful material, making me think it wasn’t sexy but vulgar, and something to be ashamed of and covered. I never imagine that a small breast exposed with the nipple could be so sensual, so delicate, so womanly.

French Vogue exposing the nipple takes back its femininity and appropriateness which was taken away by porn. It also crowns small breasts as sexy. By removing the nipple from its former pornographic friends of cock and vagina, and introducing it to better company of Louis, Ralph or in this case, Swarovski, French Vogue has rid the exposed nipple of vulgarity and inappropriateness. It has given back its femininity, sensuality, and more importantly, the nipple crowns small breasts with sexuality by saying, ‘No, you don’t need them to be any bigger. They are perfect.’