Behold, the hotties of our youth
The boys are having a moment
I’ve been regressing a little lately, but not in a bad way. More that I’ve been applauding my teenage self for her excellent taste in men. It began when I went to see Oppenheimer and my senses were ASSAULTED by the beauty of Josh Hartnett, resplendent in 1940s brown suits and waistcoats and with specs perched on his perfect little nose. Were those highlights in his artfully floppy hair?
Sorry to Christopher Nolan, but I spent most of the film waiting to see my Joshy again. He has aged like a fine wine and seems utterly unproblematic. He wears high-waisted trousers to premieres, is happily married to a beautiful blonde English actress and seems to be having something of an on-screen renaissance thanks to Oppy and Black Mirror on Netflix. More please!
Remembering fancying Josh took me down memory lane. I am someone who has always been prone to torturous crushes, since I was eight years old. I’d tend to fixate on boys both in my orbit and famous, and obsess like the little creep that I was.
My first famous love was Leonardo DiCaprio. I wasn’t allowed to plaster my bedroom walls with posters, only to choose a couple of large pieces (remember the HMV poster flicky racks?) to adorn my bedroom. Of course, I chose my Leo. I first discovered him in Titanic like so many millennials, and then watched everything I could get my grubby paws on, from Romeo + Juliet to Marvin’s Room, The Quick and the Dead, The Basketball Diaries and This Boy’s Life. Not all were appropriate for a pubescent girl, but all stoked the fires of my desire for Leo.
Today, he’s still a beaut. Problematic in that he only dates much younger women and wears a wolf necklace signifying his membership of a pack of deluded ageing Hollywood lads, generally he’s still a good dude. Cares about the environment, does good work, takes his mother on extravagant holidays. While I would no longer die for him, I will always stan and am delighted he hasn’t been cancelled.
Another young love of mine was the gorgeous David Boreanaz from Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Is it a coincidence that when selecting a new show to binge recently, I went for Bones because he’s one of the stars? Perhaps not. But watching the show has reminded me how truly obsessed with him I once was, how even when his face changed to a monstrous, violent bloodsucker, I still thought “hooooo boy”. I remembering being told at school that he was married to an Irish girl and thinking “wahey, I have a shot!” The innocence of horny teenagers. David is much, much lovelier in Bones, and not quite as frighteningly intense. He no longer wears calf-sweeping leather coats or velvet blouses and has lovely sexual tension with Emily Deschanel. Once I’m finished with Bones (only 9 seasons to go!) I may peruse his latest, SEAL Team in which has has delightful salt and pepper hair and a nice beard.
And the other object of my adolescent adoration was Freddie Prinze Jr. I watched a very strange yet enthralling film called Summer Catch the other day and can confirm that as an adult, he was an absolutely stunning specimen in his twenties. He’s still pretty gorge, is married to Sarah Michelle Gellar and cooks more than he acts these days. He has a podcast about wrestling which is a bit naff, but also cute! I do not regret a second of my crying along to Sixpence None The Richer’s Kiss Me after I saw She’s All That. Would do it again, in fact.
I didn’t have impeccable taste as a child, though. Nick Carter from the Backstreet Boys has been accused of some rather unsavoury stuff, but I was just bewitched by his blonde curtains and high-pitched voice. And many more have turned out to be gay; I have always had a knack for fancying lads that also fancy lads. Even now, on my highly scientific top ten list, one third are gay gentlemen. Yes, I have a top ten list that I keep in my phone’s Notes app. I am very cool. Can you see it? No! (Is this the kind of content people charge for?)
But so many have held up. Ben Affleck’s chin-dimple nearly took my eye out in Good Will Hunting, and he’s still a stone cold fox despite his apparent deep inner angst. Get it, JLo! Mark Paul Gosselaar is no longer cutesy blonde Zack Morris but a stunningly beefy, bearded lumberjack - even better! And Usher has not aged a god damned day. The man looks exactly the same as he did in the 90s. Fair play.
Luke Perry, for me!
I was on the fence about going to Oppy last week but then I was like 'I have to support Josh'.