By Patrick F. Cannon

Those of us who live in the provincial backwater of Chicago need to find ways to broaden our horizons. One way I do this is to subscribe to the online edition of the venerable New York Times, which is doing OK in a declining newspaper market.

            I’m still loyal to the Chicago Tribune, which is slowly fading away. They still run the “Dear Amy” advice column, which carries on the tradition of Ann Landers. “Amy” is Amy Dickenson, who daily deals with the same relationship and family problems that bedeviled people even before the invention of newsprint.

            Being in the cultural capital of America, the Times’ advice team deals with the additional problems inherent in that status. For example, they confront sexual problems that we’re inclined to keep to ourselves here. I just can’t imagine “Dear Any” weighing in on what is and isn’t acceptable among sado-masochists. But they also deal with the more mundane, as this query from a reader shows.

            “A good friend has a new romantic interest. We are huge fans! The problem: he wears loose glitter in his hair. The last time he visited, our home was covered in tiny, impossible-to-gather pieces of glitter. {Editor’s note: Don’t you hate to get greeting cards covered with glitter?} We want to support this new relationship, and dictating how people dress doesn’t sit well with us. But the glitter mess is overwhelming. Can we say something to our friend?”

            As you might expect from the “Newspaper of Record,” the response was eminently sensible. “My theory,” responded Timesman Philip Galanes, “after consulting my barber {Editor’s note again: I wonder how my own barber, Frank the Albanian, would respond?.}, is that the boyfriend is not using enough hair gel (or other adhesive) to keep the glitter in place.” But of course! Galanes goes on to suggest speaking to the be-glittered boyfriend directly, mentioning that “we’re still digging it out of the sofa from your last visit.” Who could object?

            I must confess I’ve never seen anyone with glitter in their hair, although I’ve gotten used to seeing members of both sexes sporting hair dyed in bright colors. And although I have no actual data, most of them also seem to be covered in tattoos, and have their heads and faces pierced with a strange variety of metal appliances.

            The Times also has sufficient staff to cover the fashion scene in general. There was a time when this meant female fashion. Now, the lads get almost equal treatment. If you’re au courant, you may have noticed that male models seem as malnourished as their female counterparts, who have long been fashionably skinny and pouty. The strange thing, though, is that the clothes the lads wear are large enough for big, brawny fellows. Or, equally confusing, several sizes too small.

            Once, the beau ideal of manliness was Gary Cooper; now, it seems to be someone like Timothee Chalamet, whose hair weighs more than the rest of him. Perhaps I should go on a diet and consider changing barbers? Of course, Frank the Albanian might be more than willing to cater to the glitterati. I must consult him when next I visit.

Copyright 2024, Patrick F. Cannon