So it has come to this.
After hooded thongs, after Subtle Butt™, it has come to this:
This, friends, is the C-String (thank you to Sara for the email tip). Is it a headband, you ask naively? One of those artsy paperweights they sell at the MoMA store? Jeff Koons' interpretation of a lacrosse stick?
No, children. It is underpants (site NSFW).
This, to me, begs the question: wherefore art thou, butt floss? I mean, really, what is the point of the thong in this situation? Let's just slap on a merkin and a tampon and be done with it, am I right, ladies? The C-String claims to free women of "uncomfortable straps," but really, is that a fair trade-off for wearing what looks like nothing more than a candy-colored sanitary napkin and a Twizzler clenched between your cheeks?
On the plus side, of course, no tan lines. Make sure to tell that to your arresting officer should you decide to unveil the C-String at a public beach.