Saturday morning. Mothercare outlet, Sliema: a 40-something man – very loud, very stocky and hugely paunchy – is shopping with his daughter.

Nothing wrong in being paunchy, stocky and loud, of course, except that said man was wearing the tightest of black T-shirts across which, in an enormous glittery font, stretched over his bulging stomach for more shimmering effect, was written: ‘Sex Instructor, Ask Here For Details’.

Where is censorship on this island when you need it?

I am no Stella McCartney, but I believe that when it comes to clothing attire, Malta is on a precarious bridge-hanger.

Maltese women either look like men dressed as women – with that trademark embossed lip-liner and skin-tight outfits which they struggle to pour themselves into.

Otherwise, they belong to the D&G group. D&G, as the dame in the Cinderella panto informed us, stands for Dolores and Giovanna whose styles, bless them, are grannier than my granny’s.

Maltese men on the other hand, love to think of themselves as Mr Olympia: given half a chance they’ll all be running around with those spaghetti strap tops that show the nipples – you know, the kind usually seen on bodybuilders.

Why are we so aesthetically clueless? I thought long and hard about this, and I’ve come to believe that the root of the problem lies in the foundations: our underwear. We are a society with a crucial, urgent need of an overhaul in the undies drawer before we can even look at the layers we pile on top.

Whether we like it or not, people’s underwear is being thrown in our face most of the time – it’s like being in a Tom Jones concert sans the hip-swivel. There are no ticking sex bombs, just an array of builders’ bums or lads wearing low-slung trousers.

Watching middle-aged women revealing straining, plaited thongs as they stoop to lift up bags of shopping is not one of my favourite things to do. It’s pointless trying to look elsewhere, because what do you see? Women wearing tops so low-cut that all you see is the bra.

The bra: it may have been around since the time of the Romans but it seems we’re still grappling with those hooks. Why would we otherwise ever contemplate setting foot outside wearing a bra which is five cups too small, hence inducing uh, generous overflows?

Or why do we still insist on wearing those plastic straps? Here’s news: erm, they’re not transparent; at all.

What’s happened to us? Over a few decades we seem to have gone from elastic waistband panties that rose above our navel to revealing thongs with the Rolling Stones’ lips and tongue logo on. From hearty to tarty.

We need to start a ‘Stylish Underthings’ campaign. Good underwear is not so much for showing off, but for feeling presentable. Good underwear hoists and flatters – it doesn’t bag above the waistline of your jeans or dip below the hem of your shorts. Good underwear obeys.

Of course, it’s also there for knowing that if you were to fall from a hot-air balloon, spectators below would appreciate your well-cut knickers.

So here’s the manifesto for the undergarments we’re going to be donning from now on:

Gentlemen, we don’t salivate when we see a guy in Speedo-like underpants. Stick to boxers, will you? In nice, standard colours like black, grey, white, and navy blue.

Batman? Daffy Duck? Snort. Whoever made you think that cartoon designs are cute is obviously still stuck in the early 1990s. These people probably still think that the mullet and the man earring are ‘trendy’.

Ladies, stick to colours that don’t blind anyone. Avoid prints like ‘hot stuff’ (the mystique, ladies, keep the mystique). And go to a proper corsetiere and measure yourself before you purchase a bra.

Do away with those inappropriate thongs, instead get something which flatters the hips, but minimises the bulges. Splash out on expensive, pleasing, flattering and gorgeous items.

Appearance matters in today’s society. But this is not about looks. This is something more profound than that. Nice underwear can make us all feel stronger and more confident.

It doesn’t matter if no one is exposed to them except from you, what matters is that when you put on that lovely lingerie in the morning you can feel – and I paraphrase Tom Jones here – ‘Reloaded’ for the rest of the day. Good underwear brings about a tiny change which can make us all better people. Only then can we start thinking about being less tacky on the layers we put on top.

Meanwhile, here’s hoping that the, er, sex instructor gentleman is reading this. Sir, I hope you will resolve to burn your T-shirt after you’ve finished reading this, and I’d check your underwear if I were you.

krischetcuti@gmail.com