HEAD: Compared to grungy, oily-haired New Conan, Old Conan hardly qualifies as a “barbarian.” Luxurious Vidal Sassoon hair and a fancy leather headband don’t scream savage killer—savage killer of step aerobics classes, maybe.
NECK: The tooth necklace remains, although, judging from the lack of pearly whites strewn on New Conan’s neck, the beasts in his world have never heard of “dental hygiene.” Holler at your Braun Oral-B!
ARMS: Protective chain mail on one arm? By Crom! Does New Conan wear condoms, too?
WAIST: Fuck a sheath! New Conan just tucks his decapitator into a loose-hanging belt, like a pistol in his waistband. Normally we’d clown (exterior belts are for girls), but um, he gets a pass.
GROIN: Fur briefs and a tight leather codpiece? Old Conan is savaging his sperm count! New Conan may look grungy but an airy kilt is far more civil to his scrotum.
