This week on “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” guest star Dean McDermott (Tori Spelling’s hubby) had on toenail polish! Say what? Both he and Kate Beckinsale’s director husband, Len Wiseman, have been seen strutting around LA in sandals to show off their colorful polish. But with around 30% of salon clients being male, they’re not the only bros getting their feet professionally pedicured. As hotel spa director, David Erlich, says, when it comes to treating your tootsies, “Men are the new women.” Yeah, the mantyhose, bras, garter belts, and girdles for men sorta hinted at that…
Tag Archives: metrosexual
Manscaping isn’t just a trend, it’s a bare necessity. While women have been waxing and plucking their eyebrows for ages, gentlemen are finally catching on and it’s become an eye-opening phenomenon. Salons and barbershops across the country are reporting record numbers of guys getting their brows waxed, tweezed, shaped, and shaved. Even Sephora is offering special products to de-unibrow dudes and even enhance their arch — like Gaultier’s $18 Monsieur Groomer gel. But is too much of a good thing, like manscaping, not a good thing at all? Keep reading »
Women are emotionally-vacant pigs and men are emotionally-unstable psychos.
Wait. That’s not right.
But it is in so many ways. Welcome to the new millennium, boys and girls, where gender equality means “let’s adopt the worst of each other’s stereotypes.” It’s a madcap race to the bottom rung of the sexual identity ladder. Wheee! Keep reading »
For most people, Halloween is either an excuse to look like a slut or it’s an opportunity to look as stupid as possible. Either way, it’s all about appearances, and, ultimately about getting attention from them.
On Halloween last year, I had parked myself firmly in Camp Slut, arriving to my costume party as a bride left at the altar—one, of course, with a very skimpy wedding dress. By the end of the evening, I was playing the part quite well because I was literally living it. I sat alone in a corner of the room, pissed because no boy had come to my rescue. Then, like a scene in a movie, the crowd parted, and out of it emerged a tall, thin man with wispy blond hair, heading straight toward me. Corey was, in a word, beautiful. (Even with a slashed t-shirt and fake blood smeared over his face and collarbone).
Corey wasn’t hot. Hot is for David Beckham and Brad Pitt. With his angelic face and creamy skin, he was a bit unreal, as if he had just stepped out of a Botticelli painting. I was instantly infatuated.