UNEXPECTEDLY: Former Abercrombie and Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries is arrested for sex trafficking.
Attorneys for the victims of the class action lawsuit said on Tuesday that ‘today’s arrests are monumental for the aspiring male models who were victimized by these individuals.’
‘We look forward to holding Abercrombie and Fitch liable for facilitating this terrible conduct and ensuring that this cannot happen again,’ the statement added.
Abercrombie has previously said it is ‘appalled and disgusted’ by the allegations against Jeffries.
Jeffries, who left Abercrombie in 2014, converted the chain from an struggling retailer of hunting apparel to a seller of must-have teen clothing. But he faced criticism for the company’s sexualized marketing, including billboards and beefy models that alienated potential customers who didn’t fit into its image.
QED, the late William F. Buckley, who famously wrote in November of 2001, in a column titled, “Porn, Pervasive Presence:”
I stopped by at the local Abercrombie & Fitch for sailing wear. I waited, at the counter, for my package and looked down on the A&F Summer Catalogue. You could see the handsome young man on the cover, but the catalogue itself was bound in cellophane. My eyes turned to the card alongside. “To subscribe: Fill out this card and head to the nearest A&F store with a valid photo ID.” With a valid photo ID? I thought that odd and asked the young man behind the counter, who was perhaps 19 years old, why IDs were required for purchasers of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue. He said, “Well, uh, it’s kind of porny inside.”
Abercrombie & Fitch has been from time immemorial a sportswear store renowned for its wholesome regard for the outdoor life. I smile still at the story recorded in The New Yorker generations ago. It was of a gardener in Long Island who yearned to buy a genuine A&F barometer and finally saved up the money to do so. He brought the beautiful thing back from Manhattan to his little house on the south shore, tapped it a few times impatiently, and stormed back to Manhattan to complain to the salesman that it was defective, its needle stuck at the mark “Hurricane.” Abercrombie returned his money and the plaintiff returned to Islip to find that his house had been blown away.
Abercrombie’s barometric needle had pointed resolutely at the impending hurricane of 1938, and presumably the company’s current managers are confident that its current clothes line is also pointed surely, though the summer A&F catalogue seems to be suggesting that young men and women are better off wearing no clothes at all.
It is introduced by a 150-word essay under the title, “The Pleasure Principle.” A definition ensues: “In psychoanalysis, the tendency or drive to achieve pleasure and avoid pain is the chief motivating force in behavior.” And then an amplification: “Summer being our favorite time of the year and all, we’ve worked extra hard to bring you our best issue yet by letting the pleasure principle be our guide through the hottest months.”
The lead page gives us a jaunty blonde clutching her hair, wet from the ocean she has just emerged from. If she is wearing anything, it would be below her pelvic joint. Above it, which is all the viewer can see, there are no clothes.
Exit quote from Buckley: “There was never a pitch more nakedly designed than Abercrombie’s to stimulate erotic appetites. The last part of the catalogue actually depicts clothes of one kind or another, but the reader, getting that far, is hotly indignant: What are all those shirts and shorts and pants doing, interrupting my view of the naked kids! I mean, I showed you my ID, didn’t I?”