The epitome of male vanity is in the summer in any town you will see a man, an 80 year old man walking down the street in a tank top or worse, no shirt at all. Just strutting down the sidewalk like an expired rotisserie chicken. No muscle mass left, just two bony chicken wings, licorice swaying in the wind, gold chains tangled in a spooky cobweb, body hair with the nerves. Ahead on young women.