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| Louboutinomy |
31 July 2013
30 July 2013
29 July 2013
26 July 2013
25 July 2013
24 July 2013
On Manliness
The two of us sat under the thorn trees getting to know each other."I'm attracted to you," she said between mouthfuls of spicy shrimp ceviche, "because you're manly, you're masculine. You're different."
I nodded at her, careful not to get any avocado on my Lacoste polo shirt. This is something I have heard many times before, most recently from my ex-wife and ex-girlfriend.
"Do go on."
"I love it that you're so politically incorrect, and you just say and do what you want," she continued, her huge Latin eyes looking into mine. "Most men here are weak and effeminate, with their skinny jeans and hair product. They're so...fruity."
I laughed. I knew exactly what she meant. In fact I have heard the same thing from other young women in recent years.
If you spend any time wining and dining the ladies, as I do, you will know that they find modern men mostly inadequate. They sense there is something missing--but they cannot define it. When pressed they will explain that men are not aggressive enough, not as strong or as dominant as they would like them to be. Certainly, as you know, I have long noted the softness--in body and mind--of my contemporaries. It is one reason I have set myself apart. Because of this phenomenon I have recently mistakenly assumed several straight male acquaintances to be hippies. And I have observed it in other parts of this country, not just Southern California.
What the deuce is going on here?
There may be an explanation. A recent study from the University of Lausanne has demonstrated that women taking the contraceptive pill prefer men with less masculine traits. If true, the implications are enormous. Could it be that for the last few decades the West has been producing men who are less manly than preceding generations? Are the metrosexual, hipster, and pantywaist the products of a sinister breeding project designed to pussify our civilisation?
It would explain a lot.
In addition to my beautiful Mexican lunch-time companion, with whom I plan on taking things a step further, at the moment I am generously tutoring a young Russian hottie who has appealed to me for assistance in understanding the peculiarities of American men.
Their loss, I suppose, is my gain.
23 July 2013
22 July 2013
21 July 2013
17 July 2013
Young Folks
"Young people are the same as they always were. They are just as ignorant." - Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (2005)
16 July 2013
On Indifference
Last week I met an old chum after work for cocktails at a hotel bar in Laguna Beach. After ordering drinks and food, we chatted about the state of his recent marriage, which, from the sound of it, was progressing just as I thought it would, which is to say, already fraught with drama. I was wearing my new Ferragamo loafers with the silver bit and chisel-toe silhouette. Over a glass of wine I scanned our surroundings. I was the object, I noticed, of discreet attention from the ladies in the vicinity. I saw a young blonde walk in and sit at the bar. She ordered a drink and checked her iPhone. Looking around the bar, she spotted my friend and walked over to say hi to him. They were old colleagues at an investment firm. After some small talk she returned to the bar, where she was soon met by a cute brunette in a black dress.
My friend and I returned to our conversation. I found his tales of freshly-married life most entertaining. After another hour or so, we decided to leave. I popped into the gents and when I returned to the table, my chum was grinning and giggling like a little kid with a delicious secret.
"What's up with you?" I asked.
"While you were gone, _____ came over and said her friend wants to meet you", he replied.
"Stats?"
"Twenty-seven. Single".
On the way out we stopped by the bar. My friend introduced me--a lost art, I must say. I chatted with my young admirer as I rested my arm on the back of her chair. She indeed was quite cute, probably a 7.75 or 8, vaguely Eastern European-looking, with a hot body in a slutty black dress. She laughed at my comments. I noticed her checking out my Rolex, shoes, and Tiffany cufflinks. After a few minutes I was bored. We said our goodbyes and left.
Outside, as we waited for our motor cars, my friend was agitated. "Why didn't you get her number?", he asked me repeatedly. "What were you thinking?"
I thought about it for a moment. "I wasn't into her. The fact she revealed her interest in me was a distinct turn-off. For a man, there is no value in being chased. He must be the hunter." Or something like that.
That was true enough. But another reason, I fear, is that I'm becoming indifferent. Indifferent not only to pretty girls, but also to life itself. All of this could end at any moment, I keep reminding myself. Is this the state of (inner) freedom I've worked so hard to achieve, or merely the symptoms of an icy heart?
Perhaps I'm only over-thinking it and need another drink.
10 July 2013
Barbera-ism
'A suit tells the world you are ready for business. A jacket tells the world you are open to fun. For me the ideal jacket should have soft and natural lines and balanced proportions. It should fit you but not constrict you. I do not believe in stiff shoulder pads. That is vanity, not style. Do not make it too tight. If it’s too tight, you will look like a matador. Any time I see a man playing golf or tennis in his jacket, I know he and I could be friends.'- Luciano Barbera
04 July 2013
To Be A Rebel
To exist is to defy all that threatens you. To be a rebel is not to accumulate a library of subversive books or to dream of fantastic conspiracies or of taking to the hills. It is to make yourself your own law. To find in yourself what counts. To make sure that you’re never “cured” of your youth. To prefer to put everyone up against the wall rather than to remain supine. To pillage whatever can be converted to your law, without concern for appearance. Dominique Venner (1935-2013)
