Let’s get one thing straight—real cowboys don’t wear skirts on the beach.
No, darling, I’m not talking about kilts. I’m talking about those tragic, billowing, knee-length board shorts that haunt every American shoreline like polyester ghosts of patriarchal shame. You know the ones—floral patterns from a Florida nightmare, drawstring waistbands barely holding up the weight of generations of processed guilt. They’re not swimwear. They’re trauma responses in fabric form.
Thong of the Free: Why Real Cowboys Don’t Wear Skirts on the Beach – Men’s Style with Maxwell Alexander, MA(FIT)/BFA(SVA), Artist/Activist, Fitness Model, Athlete, ft. one and only Cocky Cowboy – Emotional Wellness – Presented by GUY STYLE MAG (18+)
And I’ve had enough.
Cue the entrance: a white thong, the wind off East Hampton tugging at nothing but confidence, and me—your Cocky Cowboy—glistening like a Greek statue left to sunbathe through the 2025 fashion renaissance during upcoming Pride Month.
2025 Men’s Swimwear: Less Fabric, More Freedom
This season isn’t about camouflage. It’s about celebration. Global resortwear trends are crystal clear: the masculine silhouette is making its return, but this time it’s unapologetically queer, intentionally erotic, and proudly anatomical. No more hiding behind polyester tents. No more surrendering to suburban shame.
Men’s swimwear trends are finally catching up with men’s bodies. Think micro silhouettes, ergonomic tailoring, fabric innovations that lift, separate, and worship the male form. The thong is not just back—it’s been reengineered into a sculptural, high-functioning garment. It’s body contouring. It’s heat regulating. It’s couture meets crotch.
American Beach Shorts: A Patriarchal Pantomime
Let’s talk about the dead wood and those skirt-like monstrosities for a moment, shall we?
They were never about comfort or style. They were engineered to hide and take your libido all the way down to negative. To drape over beer bellies and silently scream, I don’t feel good in my body. Born in a country that waged war on wellness, these shorts became the textile equivalent of denial. A fashion bandage for a nation addicted to processed foods and drenched in medical gaslighting.
Thank you, FDA. Thank you, corn syrup industrial complex. Thank you, Reagan-era masculinity that said real men don’t moisturize. This hideous garment trend is the lovechild of junk science and Judeo-Christian repression—and it shows.
Thongs as Rebellion, Thongs as Truth
Here’s the truth: the thong is subversive. It’s erotic, yes, but more than that—it’s honest. When I wear a thong, I’m not just tanning evenly—I’m resisting. I’m deconstructing the hetero-Christian aesthetic that taught men to fear their own reflection. I’m body-positive. I’m fashion-forward. I’m free.
And yes, I wore it in East Hampton. The same pristine playground of privilege where city elites escape to recharge—under dress codes still tainted by racism, classism, and colonial residue. Where brown skin and queer bodies are still, in subtle ways, policed (just read the signs on Main St.).
So I wore my white thong like armor. Not to provoke, but to proclaim: I belong here. Not despite my curves and cut, but because of them.
The Cocky Cowboy: Fashion’s New Masculine Icon
Fashion doesn’t ask for permission—it demands presence. That’s what the Cocky Cowboy stands for. This isn’t cosplay. It’s a living sculpture. Cowboy hat as crown. Sunglasses as shield. And the body? A canvas of resilience, sculpted by discipline, bathed in sea light.
The white thong? It’s not just a swimsuit. It’s a symbol. A rejection of the sackcloth-shame America wrapped around masculinity for decades. This is not boy-next-door Abercrombie. This is Helmut Lang meets desert rodeo. This is homoerotic Americana remixed for 2025.
Bury the Skirts. Set the Bodies Free.
Skirt-shorts are relics. And it’s time to leave them where they belong—buried in a thrift store bin next to gender roles and expired tanning oil.
The thong is not just swimwear. It’s a call to arms. To drop the fabric and raise the flag. To let your glutes do the talking. To remind the world that real masculinity doesn’t hide in cargo pockets—it struts. And maybe… just maybe, jiggles a little.
Final Word:
So next time you hit the beach, ask yourself—am I wearing a garment of freedom or a curtain of shame?
Because on this beach, under this sun, in this decade—we don’t cover up. We show up.
Real men wear thongs.
Real men wear truth.
