And now, the metrosexuals come out
July 2, 2003 | 12:00am
WASHINGTON DC You may not know it but you could possibly be a "metrosexual". Dont panic! They arent what you think. Metrosexuals, according to The Washington Post, are straight, hip and moisturized men. They use $40 face creams, wear Bruno Magli shoes, keep their hair always just so thanks to three brands of shampoo and the precise application of three hair grooming products: Textureline Smoothing Serum, got2b styling glue and Suave Rave hairspray.
The metrosexual male, the Post describes, likes wine bars and enjoys shopping with female friends, who have come to trust his eye for color, his knack for seeing when a bag clashes with an outfit, and his understanding of why some women have 47 pairs of black shoes. But, he is straight as an arrow. They are simply "straight urban men, willing, even eager, to embrace their feminine sides."
They are also the marketers dream. The Post reports that a focused group discussion to find out their product preferences was recently held in New York of 11 straight guys who were into Diesel jeans, interior design and yoga. Next month, a makeover show will be held called "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" in which a team of five gay men "transform a style-deficient and culture-deprived straight man from drab to fab."
A shopping magazine is being developed for men. So are a hair coloring system and an all-over body deodorant. The number of plastic surgery procedures for men has increased threefold since 1997 to 807,000, according to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery. And yes, metrosexuals get pedicure and wear brighter colors, but are not afraid to be mistaken as gay. In other words, the Post points out, the metrosexual is "a sensitive guy who went to malls, bought magazines and spent freely to improve his personal appearance."
What makes the metrosexual a marketers dream is the willingness to walk the extra mile or spend the extra dollar in pursuit of their personal look. They are also called "prosumers" or urban influentials who are picky or vain enough to want Clinique for Men to not mind walking up to the womens cosmetic counter where it is sold. Or want Diesel jeans so badly to be willing to pay $135 a pair.
While the metrosexual may have a lot of women friends, not all women are attracted to them. A side-bar article in the same Post issue written by a woman observed that she could safely say that "I have never met a woman between 15 and 60, living in the continental United States, who would light up at the prospect of going out with a man who could tell her what a potent exfoliator glycolic acid is."
She continues that "the problem with the bachelor who has a Dop-kit full of $60 moisturizers is that he is transparently a victim of advertisers efforts to get him to divest himself of more money." She concludes that "women do not want partners as insecure as they are."
What could I say? America is a consumer haven. They sell everything to everyone here. And from the perspective of any economist, the consumer is the hero that keeps the fabric of society intact though thick and thin. The metrosexual would be socially scandalous and irrelevant in our society but I wouldnt be surprised if the yuppies of Makati are in to this by now.
In the context of todays uncertainties, the Diesel-jeaned metrosexuals having pedicures and moussing their hair may yet spell the difference between deflation and recovery. I am sure even Alan Greenspan wouldnt mind having these sensitive creatures around.
It is with sadness that I learned of the passing of Sen. Rene Cayetano. I was privileged to have enjoyed his friendship in those many mornings of coffee talk at the Intercons 365 Club. I am sadder still for Renes family who have obviously done all they possibly could to save his life.
I am particularly impressed with the gallant sense of filial devotion exhibited by his son who donated part of his liver to try to save Renes life. What he did gives rise to a serious philosophical question that mercifully enough, not too many families have to confront.
I was told that Rene himself cried when he found out for the first time that the donor of the liver transplanted in him was his son. The family apparently kept it a secret from him, fearing that he would object, as I think any loving father would.
I guess any father in Renes position would not stand to risk a young sons life to save his own. After all, a father would have lived his life while the son was just starting his. No father would want to burden a son with something like half a liver for the rest of his life.
Yet, what the young Cayetano son did was simply a demonstration of the strength of his love for his father and a tribute to the high value we place on family. I salute this young Cayetano, and a braver more loyal person would be difficult to meet in our lifetime.
My deepest condolence to the Cayetano family.
Speaking of hip young urbanites, an Old Ukrainian woman is riding in an elevator in a very lavish Toronto City Building, when two young and beautiful women get into the elevator, smelling of expensive perfume. The little old Ukrainian Baba says, "my, what lovely aromas"!
One turns to the old Ukrainian woman and says arrogantly, "Romance" by Ralph Loren, $150 an ounce!"
The other young and beautiful woman also very arrogantly turns to the old woman saying, "Channel No. 5, $200 an ounce!"
The little Ukrainian woman is feeling very insulted from the remarks made to her. About three floors later, the old Ukrainian Baba has reached her destination and is about to get off the elevator. Before she leaves, she looks both beautiful women in the eye, then bends over and farts and says... "Cabbage. 49 cents a pound."
Boo Chancos e-mail address is [email protected]
The metrosexual male, the Post describes, likes wine bars and enjoys shopping with female friends, who have come to trust his eye for color, his knack for seeing when a bag clashes with an outfit, and his understanding of why some women have 47 pairs of black shoes. But, he is straight as an arrow. They are simply "straight urban men, willing, even eager, to embrace their feminine sides."
They are also the marketers dream. The Post reports that a focused group discussion to find out their product preferences was recently held in New York of 11 straight guys who were into Diesel jeans, interior design and yoga. Next month, a makeover show will be held called "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" in which a team of five gay men "transform a style-deficient and culture-deprived straight man from drab to fab."
A shopping magazine is being developed for men. So are a hair coloring system and an all-over body deodorant. The number of plastic surgery procedures for men has increased threefold since 1997 to 807,000, according to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery. And yes, metrosexuals get pedicure and wear brighter colors, but are not afraid to be mistaken as gay. In other words, the Post points out, the metrosexual is "a sensitive guy who went to malls, bought magazines and spent freely to improve his personal appearance."
What makes the metrosexual a marketers dream is the willingness to walk the extra mile or spend the extra dollar in pursuit of their personal look. They are also called "prosumers" or urban influentials who are picky or vain enough to want Clinique for Men to not mind walking up to the womens cosmetic counter where it is sold. Or want Diesel jeans so badly to be willing to pay $135 a pair.
While the metrosexual may have a lot of women friends, not all women are attracted to them. A side-bar article in the same Post issue written by a woman observed that she could safely say that "I have never met a woman between 15 and 60, living in the continental United States, who would light up at the prospect of going out with a man who could tell her what a potent exfoliator glycolic acid is."
She continues that "the problem with the bachelor who has a Dop-kit full of $60 moisturizers is that he is transparently a victim of advertisers efforts to get him to divest himself of more money." She concludes that "women do not want partners as insecure as they are."
What could I say? America is a consumer haven. They sell everything to everyone here. And from the perspective of any economist, the consumer is the hero that keeps the fabric of society intact though thick and thin. The metrosexual would be socially scandalous and irrelevant in our society but I wouldnt be surprised if the yuppies of Makati are in to this by now.
In the context of todays uncertainties, the Diesel-jeaned metrosexuals having pedicures and moussing their hair may yet spell the difference between deflation and recovery. I am sure even Alan Greenspan wouldnt mind having these sensitive creatures around.
I am particularly impressed with the gallant sense of filial devotion exhibited by his son who donated part of his liver to try to save Renes life. What he did gives rise to a serious philosophical question that mercifully enough, not too many families have to confront.
I was told that Rene himself cried when he found out for the first time that the donor of the liver transplanted in him was his son. The family apparently kept it a secret from him, fearing that he would object, as I think any loving father would.
I guess any father in Renes position would not stand to risk a young sons life to save his own. After all, a father would have lived his life while the son was just starting his. No father would want to burden a son with something like half a liver for the rest of his life.
Yet, what the young Cayetano son did was simply a demonstration of the strength of his love for his father and a tribute to the high value we place on family. I salute this young Cayetano, and a braver more loyal person would be difficult to meet in our lifetime.
My deepest condolence to the Cayetano family.
One turns to the old Ukrainian woman and says arrogantly, "Romance" by Ralph Loren, $150 an ounce!"
The other young and beautiful woman also very arrogantly turns to the old woman saying, "Channel No. 5, $200 an ounce!"
The little Ukrainian woman is feeling very insulted from the remarks made to her. About three floors later, the old Ukrainian Baba has reached her destination and is about to get off the elevator. Before she leaves, she looks both beautiful women in the eye, then bends over and farts and says... "Cabbage. 49 cents a pound."
Boo Chancos e-mail address is [email protected]
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