Flight of the Peacocks

When I first started secondary school, I distinctly remember the feeling of everyone hitting puberty. There were of course the awkward parts; with training bras in sizes like batteries and little Jewish boy's voices breaking during their Bar Mitzvah sermons. What was most significant however, was that puberty marked the separation between the boys and the girls like never before. 

There was something so natural about the way the boys would huddle together on the football pitch, messy hair and wreaking of a cocktail of sweat and mud. All at the same time, the girls were breaking into the world of make-up, hair straighteners and handbags. I only assumed at this point, that by the time we were all grown up this distinction would be even stronger. 

I know, I was such a player.

To my dismay, it turns out that I couldn't have been more wrong. 

Somehow in the past handful of years there has been a shift in the Universe that has dominoed down onto every subsequent generation of young adults. It seems that where there used to be a black and white divide of sweat and perfume now lies a cloud of fake tan so impenetrable that there is almost no telling apart the women from the men at all. We've been left with a gender-bending grey area, or should I say orange area. 

Now I have nothing against a little androgyny, and even less so against the transgender and drag queen communities; but nonetheless it seems that it is now commonplace for the average man to be as groomed as his girlfriend or sister. It seems to be that men are slowly picking up the habits of women.

 I never even considered this idea in length, until last night. I was at a club in Mayfair, and had spent a gruelling few hours with my friends waxing, tanning, and grooming. (As if I would lie to you and throw out some old 'oh I woke up like this...with red lips and looking like I've paid a visit to the sun'). Once we actually arrived however, it seemed that it wasn't the other girls in the club who we had to compete with. All around me were men scantily clad in tight pastel shirts, doused in fake tan with pristine complexions and wreaking of cologne. 

These are of course a new breed of men.

 Peacocks. 

These peacocks parade around London, in their waxed chest exposing shirts, designer belts and offensively expensive cars. This term of coined because of the fact that in the world of peacock sex, the males are the swaggering cobalt blue beauties while the women are a modest brown. This is because the men are supposed to be the attractors, and the women the camouflaged protectors of infants. It seems that in this case; without any impressive feathers to show off, our men resort to buying tables. These men are by no means bad people,  many of them are actually incredibly sweet and generous. But a girl cannot help but feel confused when she is offered a drink by a man wearing the same concealer as her. 

This whole thing has made me wonder what ever happened to the classic man. Whether they're suited up like Fred Astaire or rugged like Marlon Brando, at least men used to be men.

 It seems that over the mist of St. Tropez we've lost sight of any real testosterone. Which begs the question really, when did this all happen and why?

It would be silly to deny the fact that men have been sloping toward the feminine side over the years. There was the Grease era of dangerously tight jeans and slicked back hair, and of course the 80s brought even worse news in the form of microscopic running shorts and large hair. In spite of all of this though, I was actually under the impression that men were becoming men again. Unfortunately though, it was suddenly out with Tom Selleck and in with Justin Bieber, who has literally been mistaken for a lesbian countless times.

Obviously the media is always going to have an impact, but I think it's really more a principle of lifestyle. One possibility is that we are actually the first generation that has lived without war. Of course there are parts of the world still facing great difficulties in reaching peace, but for modern day London at least. Cynical as it sounds, without this strain on upbringing, it seems we live in a generation of leisure and luxury. Without the influence of warfare around outside of an Xbox, men are seldom faced with the animal instinctive fighting testosterone that would otherwise coarse through their bodies; and are thus faced with the option of frivolous vanity. An option that never truly existed before. 

It is also possible that men are following suit from women in breaking the mould. Its arguable that my complaints are unfair, as they would warrant it acceptable to repress women back to a time of being forced to wear modest skirts and rollers in our hair. If women can wear suits and look fabulous, then maybe men should be allowed to push the socio-sexual boundaries themselves. After all, there is no reason that we should not all have equal freedom in how we choose to present ourselves.

Ultimately though, I believe that this all comes down to competition. I am in no way implying that all men are this feminine, but for those that are it seems like just a new way of getting ahead of the game. I would have no problem with it if it was a case of going to the gym or getting the odd haircut, after all there is nothing wrong with a man looking his best. However I think the real problem is when there is an element of artificiality to it. Sad and archaic as it may be, a man's role is ultimately to impress a woman. When this means resorting to fake tan and pubic waxing however, it just makes us feel like we're being a little bit conned. Of course women are not innocent in this game, but at least we are upfront about it. 

To me, an attractive man is a natural one. Adam and Eve natural. This means normal skin, muscles and an appropriate amount of bodily hair. This may be a steep request in a world where women's make-up bags weigh more than their laptops, but a request nonetheless. Otherwise fairly soon, we'll be living in a world where there's no distinction between man and woman and the peacocks run free. This would be bad news for me, because I am deathly afraid of peacocks. 

Hope you enjoyed this read and will give me your thoughts

Olivia Jane

xx