by Mills Baker When Skee-Lo, describing a parade of beautiful women well out of his Short, Non-Balling, Rabbitless and Hatless League, murmurs, “She looks fly, she looks fly, make me say my-my-my…” do you think of Jeff Goldblum turning into a revolting insect? Do you think of what sails high above the Earth, airplanes and birds and clouds? You probably do; you probably never understood that song at all. At a red light in your boxy, thrifty little car, which looks ancient to the kids already laughing at your tired slang, you turn to your friend and ask, “Does Skee-Lo mean these women are, like, airplane pilots? Or, I dunno, like, insect-like robots?” No, dick. Skee-Lo means that these women are flyabostic: ‘outrageously showy’ in their sartorial plumage. They turn men to tapioca both with their beauty and with the material bounty their wardrobe betrays, because while it’s common enough to be beautiful, it’s precious to be beautiful and swathed in soon-to-be dated fashions. Now you know, but wait: please don’t embarrass us both by attempting to mime the flyabostic fortunates. You’re not one of them; some are to the manor born, some are better suited to off-the-rack stain-proofed pants. Miming them isn’t as easy as dropping some fat-man’s-candy at the local Woolworth’s. Try it, and you’ll end up looking flothery, ‘slovenly but attempting to appear fine and showy.’ Your ill-bred blood would show through ten layers of Saville Row’s best; there isn’t enough spray on tan in New Jersey to hide it. If you want to impress, abandon the aesthetic and pursue the etymological. Everyone loves a wag, so try trivia. For example: the word ‘floss,’ used to describe the flaunting of wealth—Raynor is merely flossing when he repeatedly consults his diamond-encrusted platinum pocket watch—comes from a lisped abbreviation of flothery. From flothery to floth to floss: the history of our language. Drop that knowledge at the next cocktail party you weasel your way into and one of the waiters might consider you worthy of some time in the coat-check room, or at least a free whisky. __ flantum flatherum piebald dillard mills baker is the eleventh reincarnation of hermann hesse and the third reincarnation of milan kundera. he taught me how to ollie on a skateboard, how to not split infinitives, and how to use the concept of defamiliarization to my advantage. he spends his evenings living in a plane of consciousness parallel to—though more acute than—our own. this post is an entry in the word idol series. you can learn about this series here.

by Mills Baker

When Skee-Lo, describing a parade of beautiful women well out of his Short, Non-Balling, Rabbitless and Hatless League, murmurs, “She looks fly, she looks fly, make me say my-my-my…” do you think of Jeff Goldblum turning into a revolting insect? Do you think of what sails high above the Earth, airplanes and birds and clouds?

You probably do; you probably never understood that song at all. At a red light in your boxy, thrifty little car, which looks ancient to the kids already laughing at your tired slang, you turn to your friend and ask, “Does Skee-Lo mean these women are, like, airplane pilots? Or, I dunno, like, insect-like robots?”

No, dick. Skee-Lo means that these women are flyabostic: ‘outrageously showy’ in their sartorial plumage. They turn men to tapioca both with their beauty and with the material bounty their wardrobe betrays, because while it’s common enough to be beautiful, it’s precious to be beautiful and swathed in soon-to-be dated fashions.

Now you know, but wait: please don’t embarrass us both by attempting to mime the flyabostic fortunates. You’re not one of them; some are to the manor born, some are better suited to off-the-rack stain-proofed pants. Miming them isn’t as easy as dropping some fat-man’s-candy at the local Woolworth’s.

Try it, and you’ll end up looking flothery, ‘slovenly but attempting to appear fine and showy.’ Your ill-bred blood would show through ten layers of Saville Row’s best; there isn’t enough spray on tan in New Jersey to hide it.

If you want to impress, abandon the aesthetic and pursue the etymological. Everyone loves a wag, so try trivia. For example: the word ‘floss,’ used to describe the flaunting of wealth—Raynor is merely flossing when he repeatedly consults his diamond-encrusted platinum pocket watch—comes from a lisped abbreviation of flothery. From flothery to floth to floss: the history of our language.

Drop that knowledge at the next cocktail party you weasel your way into and one of the waiters might consider you worthy of some time in the coat-check room, or at least a free whisky.

__

flantum flatherum piebald dillard mills baker is the eleventh reincarnation of hermann hesse and the third reincarnation of milan kundera. he taught me how to ollie on a skateboard, how to not split infinitives, and how to use the concept of defamiliarization to my advantage. he spends his evenings living in a plane of consciousness parallel to—though more acute than—our own.

this post is an entry in the word idol series. you can learn about this series here.

December 10, 2009
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