Showing posts with label fit blokes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fit blokes. Show all posts

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Fit indie boys


Pop kids all look like mobile phone salesmen these days, and those really interesting dancey collectives always turn out to be short aged club gnomes. Indie and R n B is where all the totty is. Let's start with some indie boys shall we? Brilliant, this is just like Smash Hits ...


Yannis Philippakis, Foals


Sufjan Stevens


Pete Silberman, The Antlers


Keith Murray, We Are Scientists


Justin Vernon, Bon Iver


Chet White, Girls


Fabrizio Moretti, The Strokes


Eamon Hamilton, Briitsh Sea Power / Brakes


Ben Goldwasser, MGMT


Anthony Gonzales, M83

Thursday, 5 June 2008

Fit men blogs

You know those blogs that are just pages and pages of pictures of fit shirtless blokes? Yeah, I love those. But even I get bored after nineteen pictures of the same Versace cumbuckets or the pseudo-porn of Abercrombie & Felch. So, for one night only, let this be your totty blog of choice. Here, classic man-beauty triumphs over the usual three per cent body fat contractual obligations. These are the men that make me trip over myself and the very reason God made eyes etc.


Marlon Brando: The ripped white T-shirt in A Streetcar Named Desire must surely have been the sexual litmus test of its day (see Brad Pitt in Thelma & Louise generations later). Don’t refuse him, that’ll just make him angry …


Cary Grant: Rugged and a gentleman, is there anything better? Who else was built like such a brute yet played tender and awkward so heart-warmingly? Stills don’t do justice to his magnetism in motion. Clooney is proffered as a modern equivalent and though they share an ambiguous sexuality and a quiet manliness, Cary clearly has the swoon factor that gave Clooney the blueprint.


Rock Hudson: Another brute but this one a cad and ruthlessly sexy womaniser, on-screen only of course. He is quite simply textbook handsome. Could have been a Greek hero in another life. Looks like he could break a barrel with one hand.


Gene Kelly: The finest behind in the business of show. But forget that for a second and let the twinkle in his eyes work its magic. Could anyone have ever said no to him? And in a sailor suit, forget it …


Clive Owen: My old PC perpetually groaned under the weight of my unintentionally amassed gallery of Clive Owen images until I had to admit I had a problem and erased them all. Absence only makes the heart grow fonder though. The slightly oversized ears and boxer’s nose suggest a rogue turned respectable but with a streak just waiting to be tapped into. Suits do not look this good on anybody else.


Channing Tatum: I accidentally came … across this defiantly gorgeous, ridiculously named Yank in Dito Montiel’s A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints. He’s a model turned actor of course and one of only two concessions I’m making to anyone born after 1965. Hopefully he’ll fall on hard times soon and can come round and scrub my floors.


They also served …


Joe Dallesandro


Paul Newman


Paul Simonon



James Dean




Ben Cohen