Yesterday I felt rather chuffed to receive a Facebook friend request from a man I didn’t know.

“I must be really popular now!” I thought. “But I’d better check him out before accepting him willy-nilly.”

So I clicked on his profile and, to my surprise, the invitation was from my thirteen-year-old nephew, James – he had used his middle name as his surname (perhaps for anonymity); however, he had no qualms about showing a lovely photograph of himself, therefore I recognised him instantly (I should hope so!). In truth, I felt even more chuffed to realise it was our James rather than a mystery man (although the prospect had been quite exciting for a short while).

“I can’t be such an old fogey if James wants me to be a Facebook friend,” I reasoned happily to myself.

I liked James’ entry in the now customary fashion (in order that he might feel as popular as he had made me feel) and I even sent him a nice photograph of him, taken in the summer when he was still just a kid of twelve.

A little later I visited my nephew’s site again to see if there had been any reaction from James (I hoped he didn’t hate that photo, which I had aired for all the world to see.) It was thrilling to see that one of his friends had indeed liked the photograph.

“Nice one James,” a nice young chap called Josh had written.

I decided to click on Josh’s profile to see what James’ friends are like. He had to be a good egg if he had made such a pleasant and normal comment on Facebook. I wasn’t disappointed. His profile photograph showed a normal kid wearing glasses, which made him look like Brains from Thunderbirds. He is at “Station level 7” (whatever that may be, but it is undoubtedly something of an achievement) and he scored an impressive 1,633 on Kawai Run (must find out what that is so I can like it). Best of all, Josh had put a “selfie” on his site; it was entitled, “Got me Morphsuits on”.

Now until this revelation I had no idea what a morphsuit is (and I still wasn’t sure even after seeing the photograph), however, what I did notice was a certain similarity between Josh’s morphsuit and my convict-style bedtime onesie (as you may remember from previous blogs, the crotch comes down almost to my knees). And for your edification I shall not only add photographs of various morphsuits (including my own and Josh’s) but also an excerpt from an interesting article on the subject in “The Observer” and an extract from a question and answer forum.

Whats the point of a morphsuit?

1 answer

Best Answer:  The point of a “morphsuit” (see link, below), is anonymity.

People who are usually timid or shy all of a sudden feel liberated and free to behave in a totally different, kooky manner when they are, well, disguised like that.

Good luck!… ☺

What Morph should I get?

Best Answer: I would either get a tux or a black one… I got a black one for halloween. : ):

Another question:

What is the point of Morphsuits?

Best Answer: fashion:

 

The men behind the morphsuit

By Tom Lamont

• The Observer,Sunday 5 August 2012

It started out as a hilarious prank at a stag-do and has morphed into a million-pound fancy-dress phenomenon. Tom Lamont meets the three Scotsmen who have given the world the mighty morphsuit.

Shape of things to come: revellers cover up in a selection of morphsuits at the T in the Park festival in Kinross. Photograph: Ross Gilmore for the Observer

Not long ago, three friends from Scotland went out for drinks wearing brightly coloured costumes from Japan. It would prove a pivotal night of fancy dress.

The trio – brothers Ali and Fraser Smeaton, and their friend from Edinburgh University, Gregor Lawson – were skiing in Canada. They decided to hit the local bars wearing “zentai suits” – skin-tight Japanese leotards that covered them from head to toe. It was an idea Gregor had pinched from a stag weekend, where one of the attendees, newly back from Asia, had shown up in a vivid blue zentai. “Everyone wanted to buy him a drink,” recalls Gregor. “I’d never seen anything like it.”

In Canada, dressed up in zentai suits of their own, the trio were likewise admired. “The resort shut down, people were stopping us in the street,” says Ali Smeaton. The friends wondered if they’d stumbled on a way to make some cash – perhaps fund next year’s ski trip. “A bit of pocket money,” says Ali. “We’d take something that existed, give it a name, change certain physical elements, bring it to the masses.” One modification they decided on right away was that their version would be made of something more see-through. They’d been walking around virtually blind.

That was in early 2009. Today, the morphsuit (as the trio boozily agreed to name their product) is a multimillion-pound concern. A zip-up costume made of polyester and Lycra, all-enveloping so that the wearer looks like a featureless mannequin, the morphsuit has become commonplace at sporting events and stag nights, festivals and parties. It has also made unusual incursions into the world beyond. The day after bin Laden was killed, in 2011, Al Jazeera carried a photograph of an anonymous American celebrating outside the White House in a morphsuit patterned with stars and stripes.