The inside leg

Tepee or not tepee

On the second attempt to wear my moncho, the male poncho I bought a few weeks ago, people at work called it the following: a tepee, a beach blanket, a portable changing room, a holiday souvenir, that thing. Most conversations began with the phrase, "You're wearing a poncho." All according to plan, since any man in a poncho clearly wants it to be the first, last and only subject of chatter.

So I'll go on about it some more. It didn't work. My main issue was the waistband, which is attached to the front and into which you step and pull up. Once the moncho is over your head, the waistband gives some sort of gathered control to the front. Fine, except it can also suggest beer belly, and once you turn to the side you can see the strap going around the body. It's like the band that holds together a reflective bike safety top. If I wanted that look, I'd wear one of them.

I tried hiding the strap under the sweater I had on beneath the moncho, which was a solution when you sat still, but once you moved about, so did the moncho. Then the strap shifted, the sweater rode up and, woo-hoo!, there's my tummy. I got flustered - and the one thing you should never do when trying to pull off a statement piece is to look stressed or defeated. End of day, defeat was admitted and I put my Topman topcoat over it. Under that, the moncho looked like a plain old saggy rugby shirt.

Upcoming plan C: picnic in park with friends, where there'll be less movement and bother, but more languishing and a proper chance to arrange myself correctly. Plan D: give up and donate it to an unsuspecting female friend - though whether she'll be overjoyed by this is another matter.

· Charlie Porter is associate editor of GQ.

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