Feb 06 2009
In defense of the metrosexual
I have a confession to make. I…..am a metrosexual.
Believe me, I hate it. I wasn’t comfortable admitting it at first. Okay, I’d reason with myself, I just pay attention to my looks. Later on I’d realize I’d agonize over my wardrobe. Pretty soon it became a full-blown addiction: I had to use aftershave when I finished trimming my facial hair, I had to have the coolest looking shoes, I even had to make an impression when it was something as simple as going to a friend’s house.
Being a guy and admitting you’re somewhat into your appearance isn’t easy in today’s age. Now a guy is supposed to not care about how he looks, to keep his hair short and wear nothing but sports jerseys and drink beer. He is supposed to be rough, careless, and stoic.
I will concede there are some points the critics have. Yes, fashion can get ridiculous. It can be mind-numbing, soul-crushing, and ultimately shallow and materialistic. But is a little indulgence such a bad thing? In a nation where wealth is (for the most part) prominent, why shouldn’t we be allowed to express ourselves?
Women say they want a man who is thoughtful, caring, and considerate. Wouldn’t the definition of a pretty boy fit this bill? After all, if a guy cares about his clothes, shouldn’t that say he is mindful of how he appears to the outside world? The metrosexual is the one who has the biggest balls in American society because he is willing to stand up to the old guard of male machismo and say, “Fuck you, I like apple schnaps.”
And before you dig up whatever post-industraitl-capitalist-consumerist or other terms you learned in your nightly anthrplogy courses and say this is a symptom of a world rotten at the greedy core, keep in mind this is nthing new. Guys have been feminine since the beginning of time. Recall that in the Middle Ages the kings and nobles would adorn themselves with the fanciest clothes and shiniest jewelry. Who can forget the dandy, the fop, the swinger from the 1920s? To wear wild and garish attire is to celebrate life to the fullest.
This goes all the way back to the decadent movement, championed by none other than Oscar Wilde himself. To speak of metrosexuality is to shine a light on that often-forgotten area of philosophy, aesthetics. We are talking about the beauty of things, pure, raw, sublime appearances. For me, metrosexuality isn’t just about shopping at Abecrombie & Fitch or listening to the latest pop music. Art and culture play a role in this as well. What happened to the ideal of the Renaissance man, an ubermensch who was skilled in all areas and refined in manners of learning, speaking, and grooming? Is it so wrong to be so sophisticated, to be so caught up in the zeitgeist as a means of understanding the world and trying t place a historical context on where I live right now?
Keep in mind, you can know how to wear a three-piece suit and what hairstyle goes best with your face and still pick up chicks and get shitfaced with your bros. One does not cancel out the other. Too often, people equate nancy bys with being gay. I think this is the ultimate fear latent in the homophobia surrounding metrosexuality. So many men are afraid of losing their masculinity, of this enroaching erosion of testorone sweeping the continent. I say, why not relax and give in? You can fish in the morning and read GQ in the afternoon. Simple as that. Let me clue you in on a little secret: part of looking good is being able to fuck hot chicks. Bet ya Ernest Hemmingway never let that slip, did he?
Before you think that the guy typing these words is some annoying douchebag with a fauxhawk who wears silk shirts that are just a little too tight with capri pants and sandals on, keep in mind I listen to heavy metal and I’ve been mistaken for a skatebarder before. Us vain narcissists come in all shapes and sizes. And yes, while I am anti-consumerist and feel that we as a peoples are a bit too obsessed with conpicious consumption someimes, I can’t deny the allure of caring about how I look as a matter of personal pride and hygenic upkeep. Now order a cosmpolitan, change the tube to What Not to Wear, and CHILLAX!
