Metrosexual Madness

Metrosexual Madness
25th January 2005
This is the first real post for season 3. And the last for a while, methinks. Am off to Oz tomorrow, for a month-long shoot. With Slappy ;-> Guess I'll post whenever I can. See you when I'm back, mates. G'day.
I'm normally late with catching up on fads. Spiked hair happened to me during the latter part of its "in vogue" season. Boot-cuts, about thirty years later.

So, you'll excuse me if I take up metrosexuality two years after the word first entered popular usage.

I can't remember the name of the guy who invented the word "metrosexual", so I can't quite give him credit in this column. Not that this column is meant for anything but satisfying my own ego about my own creative juices flowing.

However, the above-mentioned inventor of words (how cool is that? Even I want to invent words someday...is whackleruffster a word?) describes a metrosexual male as one who takes greater care of his personal grooming and hygiene than normal.

Do note here that, while all gay men (by popular cultural stereotyping) are metrosexual, all metrosexuals aren't gay.

Merosexual seems a rather long word to type - even on my phone. So I'll just abbreviate it to MS through the rest of my column.

So, your average MS gets his hair neatly coiffed, keeps his nails always clean, has no extra, unwanted body hair in embarrassng places, dresses well, if a little wimpy, etc.

So what does this have to do with me? Simple. Let's go on a journey through my MS life.

Let's start with the hair. I used to always get the "short and straight", almost-crew-cut job done about once a monthat th local hajaam. Price - Rs. 20, and steadily increasing to match inflation and the hajaam's self-image.

About a couple of years back I started visiting an upmarket South Bombay hairstylist. Where I discovered messy spikes. A style that caught on with all the gals at work, but somehow didn't seem to work for my own self-image once I got past my identity crisis.

So I went back to hajaam and 30-rupee haircut.

My next real concession to MS-ality was threading my eyebrows. This actually began in Pune, at the behest of Ficklechick. She was then my personal beautician - especially when it came to treating the blackheads on my nose.

So I went in, prepared to come out with a clean forehead. No Unibrau look (refer Austin Powers) for me.

What I wasn't prepared or was the pain. The sheer agony as every hair was plucked out, one after the excruciating other. I'm not ashamed to admit it - involuntary tears did happen.

Of course, over time the nerve endings have come out with the eyebrow hair. Making it so much easier.

Adventure #3 was my blackheads. Which, thankfully, no longer exist. Because the hajaam used to remove 'em with a tweezer. Ouch! T'was a shame they stopped selling blackhead removal strips.

I next looked at the option of shaving my chest hair. However, having less hair on my chest than a ping-pong ball, I decided to abandon the plan.

Mom and Sis have often remarked on my leg hair. They think it looks awful. Right they may be too! My legs are the one body part that has plenty of hair - a fact made more prominent every time I wear shorts.

My legs, however, are the one MS concession I refuse to make. Some signs of masculinity are needed...

Now for grooming.

Which is very simple. I dress for comfort, not fashion. And I don't care what people think.

However, I have caught myself checking my reflection in a public place too often. And I must admit to being narcissistic enough about my appearance. Guess that's an MS sign.

I also have a whole collection of cosmetics I use regularly - face wash, moisturisers, skin cream, deos, colognes, shower gels, etc. Believe me, I probably outdo even my Sis on this one.

But I'm only about a 4 on the MS scale of 10. I know men who stock Victoria's Secret cosmetics in their cars, wear pink t-shirts and gel their hair only after getting off the train and into the office.

All in all, metrosexuality seems to be a much overrated thing. Much ado about an invented term.

But that one invention has made someone famous enough to be forgotten by me.

Time I did something with whackleruffster...