That’s the Hairy Übermensch, a philosophical equivalent to the Marie Sue, whose nemesis is a lit match.
And now I’m off to bed, to try and sleep. Night night lovelies!
Also: the women think of being her…
…the men couldn’t care less.
Photograph: a bride climbing the stairs to Saint Roch church, Paris, 1952, by Edouard Boubat
Oh, and she cares of not stepping on her skirt.
PS: my mother still haves her wedding gown. We all agree to wonder how in heavens did she fit inside, specially since it’s physically impossible that she is taller now than then…