Featherbrain
By Anastasia Voight

In the year of the great navel engagement, the legendary Neiman Marcus Christmas catalog featured custom tanzanite crusted umbilical enhancers. Whether you and your love object(s, any combination) sport shy retiring innies, promiscuous outies or mixture thereof, N.M. was prepared to tailor heinously expensive ornamentation to fit.

The roots of the belly button phenomenon stemmed back to the earliest stages of body piercing. After the ears the navel was the logical target for stabbing and bejeweling. Later, after penetration and accessorization of any and all accessible body areas had been so very done, the fad seemed to be dying a natural death of boredom. It should have gone the way of leg warmers, torn sweatshirts and the bubble dress. Like the mini, it is still here.

Of course, navel ornaments such as those sported by belly dancers were around for ages before becoming everyday attire. But not much more than a year ago an inventive entrepreneur decided to promote and capitalize on innie and outie differences. With the help of a liquid bandage adhesive developed to close wounds and attach replacement parts such as noses, he created a near instant demand for belly baubles and tummy ticklers of a different kind. Male and female plugs and receptacles were the first big sellers.

Overnight the in thing was to display your in or out thing. The practice rapidly progressed to gross exaggeration. To accommodate the faddish enhancements, the truly in people had instant surgery. In days some ultra fems of any sex sported garishly adorned craters where a discrete dimple once collected lint. And the superjocks now had bespangled projections to contrast or rival their native genitalia. Apparel for display of the new finery was required.

Antique clothing stores quickly ran out of low rise jeans and cropped tops. The late many had to make do with boy jeans and shirts tied well above the waist display. Paris and New York fashion houses were aghast. More importantly, they were unprepared. The haute couture they were serving last winter was the Lawrence of Arabia/sexy burka look. Their pret-a-porter sported clear inserts — the number, size, and placement of the windows depended on the bravado, wallet, and degree of svelte of the prospective wearer.

A few months later, only March in fact, interest waned. Although Wal-Targ-K Megastores were now sporting cheap imitations, the fickle fashionada tide had turned. I missed my op on that one but I caught the next wave when it was just a swell. While most of the world was still comparing and contrasting herniated versus invaginated abs, the next "to die for" was fluttering on the fashion horizon.

I've invested heavily in the new product line. Let's hope the scalp injections that turn hair follicles into feather producers take flight. Since I did so much nest feathering, I get input on the product's names. Having trouble choosing among "Featherhead,""Coq au Vin,""Birds of a Feather," "Feathers In One's Cap", "La Plumage,""Preen," and "Rooster." Maybe we should add "Chicks and Ducks" for a kid's line and "Fledgling" for tweens.