I'm wearing underpants (yes Revolving Credit, I'm wearing doondies) that require I tie up the back with a ribbon. Boy-short lacey numbers, with a woven-in ribbon thingie at the back. They looked great on the hanger, and although they do look pretty darn fantastic on my own ass, the ribbon thing was secondary detritus when I paid for the item.
'Cept now, I walk around public places, where the fudging ribbon ends seem to explode from my pants, and drag around behind me. Much like a porn star who forgot to fasten her chastity belt after a steamy brothel session, or a Victorian retard that forgot to fasten her corset on dressing in the morning.
Sometimes things are great in theory.