This may sound odd, but…I was looking for new fodder for cover snark, and after looking for several minutes at appalling computer-generated images, I found myself longing for simpler days—days when a woman didn’t have hair, she had tresses, and they flowed, oh how they flowed. Days when a man proclaimed his masculinity by daring to tuck his unbuttoned shirt into his belt. Days when a woman knew her place: kneeling at a man’s feet, gazing up in supplication, the froth of her skirts throwing themselves with gentle futility against his rock-hard thews.
Only one thing could assuage my hunger.
Clinch covers. Up on the chopping block this week: Avon Romance.
That’s right, kittens. Grab your panniers and set your hairspray to “Stun.”
Candy: It just occurred to me that clinch covers are where bad bridesmaid dresses go when they die. WHY exactly these two clowns are attempting to stretch this woman’s hip flexors while she’s wearing one is a question for the ages.
Sarah: Behold, the Avon checklist: Mullet? Check. Black pants, no shirt? Check. Heroine with absurdedy big, absurdedly curly hair? Check. Off the shoulder dress with possibly surgically augmented boobs about to burst forth in nippulous delight? Check and double check. Barefoot and showing of flexed calf? Check. Ribbons flying out in a flirty approximation of girly erection? Check.
The only difference is the whispered inner monologue of the posing heroine. In the first one: “I got my shoes at Payless’s Buy-One-Get-One Sale. But I only got one. Wonder what I did wrong?”
Candy: Is there some sort of modified Bernoulli’s Principle at work on romance novel covers? Seriously, look at how crazy her ribbon is going, while his hair is baaaarely fluttering…in the opposite direction. Is there some sort of low-pressure system that magically manifests itself underneath ribbons and
flowing tresses? Unless the woman had just run full-tilt-boogie into the dude.
Sarah: “And if I look at him from this angle… nope. It’s still a mullet.”
Candy: I take my crack about bad bridesmaid’s dresses back.
Clinch covers are where bad 80s prom dresses go to die.
Also bad 80s prom hairstyles.
Sarah: “You’d think he’d lay down his shirt for me so I wouldn’t get grass stains. Then again, this dress is the color of bile.”
Candy: Porn-stache-tacular! I also love the vaguely angry look on the guy’s face. “GODDAMN SKIRTS, GETTING IN THE WAY OF MY SHIT. RRRRRRRRGGGHHHH. HULK SMASH.”
Sarah: “What is he doing with my dress? Hiding a dribble spot? I’m closing my eyes and thinking of…anything but that.”