I'm going bald. There, I said it. For a long time, I couldn't admit it to myself, like it was a blight on my character or a dirty secret that only I noticed. Spoiler alert: Everyone could tell. So I tried the topicals, read the articles, fretted and feared about my appearance. It made me miserable. But, eventually, I just let it happen. And guess what? I feel much better about myself. Unfortunately, we live in an era where your appearance defines you more than ever before. Let me convince you to take the leap I did, at the link below. – Chris Hatler, deputy editor |
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Men throughout history have grasped tightly to their youth by fussing over their hair. The world would be a better place if we did the opposite. |
I could propose the obvious reason why modern men feel pressured to treat their head like a science experiment. Not only are we faced with our shortcomings constantly, but procedures are so good, so accessible, that it feels like there's no excuse not to "fix" yourself. In this very magazine, we have touted the glories of both hair transplants and hair-loss-prevention treatments. And on social media these days is a landscape of "looksmaxxers" who desperately chase eternal youth by optimizing their appearance. The online subculture has hit the mainstream media, propelling a strange and obsessive zealot named Braden "Clavicular" Peders off the Internet into everyday conversation. The New York Times recently reported on his "extreme methods, bizarre argot and nihilistic worldview, in which the universe is a Darwinian nightclub full of aggressive men jockeying for status," which have rewarded him with over 800,000 TikTok followers. The last thing men need is more Claviculars, more hair-loss drugs, more Hollywood heartthrobs with questionably perfect locks. The irony of it all? Though we've dramatically improved our ability to preserve our hair and maxx our looks, all we've done is prove that vanity makes us miserable. |
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This week, I'm experiencing a bit of scenic whiplash. I started the week in New York, at a fancy design party Esquire and Design Within Reach threw to celebrate our Home Awards, but I'm currently in the middle of nowhere Louisiana visiting extended family. Crawfish season pulls everybody in from across the country: mom, brother, and nephew flew in from Georgia; my wife and I flew in from New York. We're in a rented Toyota Tacoma, driving through East Texas and South Louisiana. It's 80 degrees and 90 percent humidity. It's gross, but I'm still mentally in New York. I'm admiring laidback summer-weight menswear from Billy Reid but also turbocharged tailoring from Edward Sexton. And this part of the world always makes me think Americana, so it's serendipitous that Jacques Marie Mage just released its newest edition of its Last Frontier collection—my favorite release of the week. The rest of the Esquire staff is obviously in New York. Tom Ford slippers and Métier bags are the accoutrements to a high-class spring in the city. That is, of course, the Esquire difference. I'm in the country with barely any cell service; they're in the city doing the fashion and design run-around. We're all tapped in to whats going on, but we have different ideas of what luxury is at the moment. |
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Arsenio Hall built a career as a stand-up comedian in the '70s and early '80s before landing notable roles in Coming to America (1988) and Harlem Nights (1989). In 1989, he started hosting The Arsenio Hall Show, which became a cultural touchstone of the era. The show lasted six seasons. In a newly published memoir, Arsenio, Hall sets the record straight on why he left the show and tells some wild Hollywood stories along the way. Our interview with Hall, 70, took place in Los Angeles on February 10. The following is Hall in his own words. My dad didn't want me to come to Hollywood. He wanted me in the family business—a preacher. The best lesson my dad taught me, I hate to say it, but it comes from the Bible. I'm not the motherfucker to fuck with, but I try very hard to be kind, to treat people as I want to be treated. Do unto others. When I stepped away from late night, I found out what I needed. I needed more personal life. I needed to be a dad. I needed a kid. I wanted to pick him up from school. I didn't want to be busy. I didn't want to be, "Dad, where are you? You are at Yuk Yuks in Atlanta." I didn't want to be that dad. My son made me whole. |
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What the hell happened in politics this week? Esquire's legendary blogger Charlie P. Pierce has answers |
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It's all about the Epstein files. I'm sure that the president is upset that Bondi wasn't able to secure convictions, or even indictments, against everyone who's looked crossways at him for the past ten years. |
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Wait, is he escalating the war, declaring victory, or building a new ballroom atop a peak in the Alborz Mountains? I couldn't tell. |
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First they violently attempted to overthrow a presidential election. Next they want to pillage the American taxpayer for a few million. Who's to say it won't work? |
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I swear to God, he'd rather sell off his sons if that would let him keep slapping his name on existing buildings and/or building new monuments to his sorry-ass self. |
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After a tense judiciary session today, I was glad to see that the Supreme Court still has one shred of dignity left. |
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