Sherlock and the case of the Manbroidery
There he reclined, resplendent at the front of the stall in the middle of Lille’s gargantuan annual Braderie. His groin appeared to follow me as I walked past, ‘Is he wearing trunks or has someone painstakingly embroidered a wave to tastefully conceal drowning giblets?’
How could I leave him behind? His existence threw up so many questions; Who on earth spent months, maybe even years stitching this hunk? Who is he? He surely can’t have been stitched by a doting mother or grandmother, can one actually purchase this guy as an embroidery kit from an erotic craft shop somewhere called ‘You sexy sew and sew’?!
I imagined the scene; a balding, wealthy, older man in a Paul Smith bathrobe stitching it for his toy boy lover during lonely evenings in his Brighton penthouse whilst ‘Maurizio’ spent the summer as a dickhand on a yacht in the Côte d'Azur.
But by the time he eventually finished the piece, Maurizio had cheated on him - dozens of times, gone bisexual for a week, married a sugar mummy, put on a stone, divorced her, lost the weight, found a new lover at the gym, changed his hair and moved to Paris.
The balding, wealthy older gentleman took the embroidery all the way to the Paris apartment where Maurizio now lived with his black French bulldog, Aubergine and he presented him with the portrait and tried to win him back with his skill at the tent stitch.
Clearly Maurizio was underwhelmed by his lover’s digital dexterity and in due course the tapestry found its way to the Lille Braderie, where I was immediately intrigued as to the provenance of ‘Maurizio’.
I wonder has anyone out there ever been presented with such a gift? Or stitched one? Are there any other ‘Maurizios’ out there, should I build a collection? Will they one day hang in the V&A, part of an exhibition of erotic textiles amongst crocheted codpieces and knitted chastity belts?
Sherlock and the case of the Manbroidery
There he reclined, resplendent at the front of the stall in the middle of Lille’s gargantuan annual Braderie. His groin appeared to follow me as I walked past, ‘Is he wearing trunks or has someone painstakingly embroidered a wave to tastefully conceal drowning giblets?’
How could I leave him behind? His existence threw up so many questions; Who on earth spent months, maybe even years stitching this hunk? Who is he? He surely can’t have been stitched by a doting mother or grandmother, can one actually purchase this guy as an embroidery kit from an erotic craft shop somewhere called ‘You sexy sew and sew’?!
I imagined the scene; a balding, wealthy, older man in a Paul Smith bathrobe stitching it for his toy boy lover during lonely evenings in his Brighton penthouse whilst ‘Maurizio’ spent the summer as a dickhand on a yacht in the Côte d'Azur.
But by the time he eventually finished the piece, Maurizio had cheated on him - dozens of times, gone bisexual for a week, married a sugar mummy, put on a stone, divorced her, lost the weight, found a new lover at the gym, changed his hair and moved to Paris.
The balding, wealthy older gentleman took the embroidery all the way to the Paris apartment where Maurizio now lived with his black French bulldog, Aubergine and he presented him with the portrait and tried to win him back with his skill at the tent stitch.
Clearly Maurizio was underwhelmed by his lover’s digital dexterity and in due course the tapestry found its way to the Lille Braderie, where I was immediately intrigued as to the provenance of ‘Maurizio’.
I wonder has anyone out there ever been presented with such a gift? Or stitched one? Are there any other ‘Maurizios’ out there, should I build a collection? Will they one day hang in the V&A, part of an exhibition of erotic textiles amongst crocheted codpieces and knitted chastity belts?