MEN. THE NEW VANITY UNITS

ugh laurie

Gentlemen… a word in your adorable hairy ears, if I may.

It is now clear that the battle for the crows feet, crepey necks and purses of women has been comprehensively won and that the multinational cosmetic companies have turned their gaze towards you in their bid to have no person on the face of the planet living without a jar of nanoceuticals by the year 2020.

L’Oreal has enlisted the fabulous Hugh Laurie to the cause (he’s 45 and a bit, i.e. 54) and that’s pretty compelling because who doesn’t want to look like Hugh? I’d hazard a guess and say a man who’s in his forties. On a good day Hugh looks 55.


Thankfully, Hugh says he’s just going on being himself… only smellier. And that’s great, because if he loses the prodigious eyebags and wrinkled forehead that made him such a natch to play a shagged, overworked doctor, I, for one, would be very sad.

As a gullible dingbat who has been shelling the big bucks out for worthless gunk in jars for decades, I’d like to sound a note of caution before the rest of you blokes wade into the pool of Narcissus in the wake of the desirable Mr Laurie.

For a start, no matter what they say at the Ponds Institute, I reckon you already look pretty great.

In fact, I’m deeply impressed that you manage to look so utterly gorgeous using only a grotty shaving soap stick, a face washer and the odd dab of sorbolene. Your masculine disregard for a five-step beauty routine turns me on.

Remember when Crocodile Dundee shaved himself with a hunting knife standing knee deep in a crocodile infested swamp? That’s the kind of bloke I’ve always been attracted to. So was Linda Kozlowski. (Remember?)


A bloke who trims his sideburns with a whipper snipper and finishes off with wet’n’dry sandpaper. And if you want to smell great, a slosh of diesel fuel behind the ears will do.

But if you are still convinced that a scruffing lotion will add something to your desirabilty, be aware that most “free skin analysis” offers at cosmetic counters are thinly disguised tests to see how much self esteem you have left. (Strangely enough, we women actually enjoy being humiliated by girlies with IQs lower than their hip measurements in crowded department stores.)

How will you cope with a supple-skinned lad telling you that you have an “oily T-zone and clogged pores” when you still put blokes in headlocks for looking at you sideways at the pub?

And just say this fragrant metrosexual recommends a “gentle lavender scented pre-shave balm”… how are you going to ask for that in public when some of you at the Seven Eleven are still hiding your condoms between the sports pages?

I don’t suppose anyone has warned you of the capricious nature of cosmetic manufacturers, (most of them are French, after all).

It’s a fact that just as a product becomes indispensible in your life, it’s discontinued. Imagine walking into a hardware store to be told they’re not making 4-inch nails anymore? Get used to it.

And if you think a ballpoint pen leaking into your shirt pocket is a pain, imagine the havoc wrought when your free-radical triple alpha hydroxy acid after-shave gel combined with the noxious fumes of the week-old footy socks in your sports bag. We’re looking at a horrible chain reaction which could render a locker room a toxic waste dump with a half life of 10,000 years.

But OK, let’s say you succumb to Hugh’s message and puchase the “turbo booster reparative fluid”, the “hydra energentic shave balm”, the “expert cleansing foam” and the rest.

When you arrive home with your $350 worth of “essentials”, where do you think you’re going to put that stuff?

Oh no… you’re not putting it on MY vanity unit. MY vanity unit is already full of $1,200 worth of “essentials”.

You can put YOUR stuff in the shed.

Finally, and this should be made very clear, there is only room for one self-obsessed, vain fool standing for hours in front of the bathroom mirror for no good reason.

And all that room is being taken up by ME. OK?

 

Has your man started using “manceuticals”? Or is he still pinching yours? What’s your man got in his vanity unit?

 

 

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