I was on the subway last night sitting opposite The Handsomest Man in the World. He looked like Jason Bateman and Brad Pitt had a baby. I didn’t want to drag him home or anything–I am old enough to be his ancestor–but discreetly gawping at him over my book was unavoidable.
A few years ago I was on another subway sitting next to The Most Beautiful Woman in the World. I noticed that everyone on the car was staring at her, slack-jawed. I could have gone person to person and lifted all their wallets; no one would have noticed. I rather regret not doing that.
Now, I do not begrudge them: I am happy for them and hope they enjoy their stunning looks. Me, I look like a picture of a horse painted on a fence, and I wonder what it is *like *being that gorgeous. Do any of you know the Insanely Beautiful, or are you yourself so blessed? What is it *like? *
But there’s a really funny scene in one of Dan Savage’s books–I think it’s Skipping Towards Gomorrah. In researching for the book, he decides to hire an escort (one of the more pricey ones, not a crack whore.) He meets her in a restaurant and discovers that she’s extremely gorgeous, and also wearing a super cute sparkly jacket. “I love your jacket!” he gushes when he sees her. Some time later, after they eat dinner, he confesses that he’s gay and is not hiring her for sex. She says she sort of figured. “How did you know?” “When most men see me, the first thing out of their mouth is not, ‘I totally love your jacket.’”
The first time I went to the US was in 1988, to work in a summer camp. I flew in in a chartered 747, full with other people traveling with the same organization, aged 18-45 (mostly 18-25; the 45yo was a woman from New Zealand who’d declared independency from her children and husband and told them to feed themselves for that summer).
As the plane landed, someone yelled “Concorde on right!” I was one of the few passengers who didn’t jump on the right-side windows, but I’ll admit it’s because I happened to be sitting at a right-side window.
The head hostess cursed us mightily and tried to get us seated again, but while Concorde had been the reason for the initial jump, what kept many of us glued to the window was this absolutely gorgeous black dude who had people exclaiming “now THAT is a monument and not that chick with the torch!”
The hostess was a mite pissed. Just, you know, a mite.
20 years later and I still recall every last detail of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I have never been able to figure out her name since then. But stunning is an understatement and smart as a freakin’ whip! Which was probably what made her so stunning. I was just a small town boy and hadn’t encountered either sort of beauty on this scale before. Oh to be 15 again… but so was she!
My boyfriend tells me about 15 times per day that I am the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, but he’s from a small town, so I know not to get a big head about it.
I was young back then, riding the bus home from work on a warm summer day. A tall, young woman with long strawberry hair boarded the bus. She was wearing a sun dress and I fell instantly in love with her. Mile after mile I tried to make eye contact with her. Finally, she glanced in my direction. I gazed into her eyes, wordlessly urging her to get off the bus with me and walk hand in hand into the sunset, living happily ever after.
Her eyes wordlessly replied, “I have Mace, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn’t think he’d remember. You take me. One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in, and on it there was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn’t see me at all, but I’ll bet a month hasn’t gone by since that I haven’t thought of that girl.” - Bernstein in Citizen Kane (I love that quote)
Another guy and I were sitting in a bar called The Sandbox in St. Thomas, VI back in about 1976. I glanced over when a couple walked in and was stunned into silence by the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. They sat in a booth, and she seemed oblivious to her beauty and the effect it was having. My friend and I kept looking over at her in disbelief. The husband saw us, but didn’t seem annoyed. I finally got up and walked over to him when she went to the loo, apologized to him for staring, and told him she was absolutely stunning. He smiled and said it was no problem; it happens all the time. He said he first saw her in a village in South America when he worked in the Peace Corps and knew he had to leave with her, that she still wore no makeup, and remained very shy about compliments.
To toot my own horn- I was an extreme hottie as a youth, from 16-25, and it was fucking annoying.
The people staring from a distance were okay, but I really didn’t appreciate being approached.
I like to share the photos of yesteryear with people, but it rather stings when I hear, “WOW, you were a hottie!”
By the way, I am male, at the time I had slightly longer than shoulder-length telephone-cord-ring curls of sunbleached-strawberry blond fading to reddish brown hair.
There’s a young woman I see every once in a while who looks like she stepped out of an advertisement for hair products. She’s got the most amazing thick curly hair, is very slender, and has a roman nose that makes her stunning rather than vanilla-pretty. She’s also 19 and struggling to support herself - I wonder if she’s considered modeling.
Modeling is some of the hardest work on the planet. I tried briefly.
My cousin did it for a few years, but decided that $300 an hour isn’t enough for what you have to do. She would rather make a middle class salary, and gave it all up. She went behind the cameras for a few years, and then drifted off into insurance or realty or something now.
Huh, really. Please illuminate the unenlightened: what is it that your cousin had to do that made it not worth it? (Also, how many hours a week was she getting at that pay rate?! :eek: )
Think about isometric exercises. The way you have to hold your body and neck and head and still look naturally smiling are horrid. Also, she had to count every single calorie she ate- she carried a food scale with her. It varied, of course, but she was getting about 20 hours of work in newsprint and industrial work. They really loved her for the underwear/bra spreads in the papers, as she had the perfect unrealistic woman’s body- she was thirteen and fourteen.
And she was living at home, of course, so that was pure income.
I know of such a person. She’s a friend of a friend, and though I don’t know her well, I’ve talked to her and been in the same room as her. She’s…absolutely stunning. Naturally svelte, long flowing brown hair, skin the color of milk, and a smile that could force you to do anything. Its almost painful to be in the same room as her as I keep trying not to stare but its impossible
I see beautiful women all the time. But when I was in San Francisco I spent time with probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Tall and willowy, amazing flaxen hair, and her eyes were other-worldy. And absolutely friendly, smart, and fun.
