Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Metrosexual!

So yesterday I was taking a shower and reached for the shampoo — and there wasn't any. There was a tube of shower gel within reach, and I paused to ponder: Is shower gel supposed to be used on your hair or your body? Or is it both? I ended up using the gel anyway. It didn't feel right.

I'm no metrosexual, obviously. Although i do use conditioner.

I predict that 2004 will be the Year of the Metrosexual. It's funny how the topic of "metrosexuals" crops up repeatedly in my conversations these days. Most of the time, it's good-natured ribbing of a guy who uses hand cream or gets a little prissy about his hair. The general male population — at least here in Manila — seems to shun the "metrosexual" apellation. Find some fancy cream or body scent in their rooms and they're like, "That's my mom's/sister's/girlfriend's stuff!" It may be the 21st century, but a lot of men still favor good old-fashioned machismo over "getting in touch with your feminine side."

Still, the beast is beginning to circulate. There's this friend of mine is highly infatuated with a certain metrosexual whom she calls — what else — The Metrosexual. This obsession has wrought long and tipsy discussions on the annoyances of the metrosexual species, with catty remarks thrown in the direction of the more vulgar members of said tribe.

I think the greatest horror apparent in the metrosexual phenomenon is the emergence of a new kind of nasty — the male diva. Not a gay diva, mind you. Something much, much worse. I mean, men have big enough egos as it is... add a dash of female-league vanity and you have the makings of a new generation of uber-jerks.

It's a Brave New World.

Article Author: Flea Rosca

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