The best part about returning from a good holiday is the rested feeling and a collection of those little moments one had to honestly scrutinize one’s personality and motives surrounding existence -Boy do I sound deep or what! It turns out that I have an interest in casting myself as an archetype well described in an essay composed by Tim Banks in the 13th issue of Another Man magazine. L’Homme Fatale.
Therein he discusses the seductive allure of deadly men across the 18th, 19th and 20th century. These men share the an optimum level of confidence, thoroughness and overall attractiveness which is furthest from cocky, if anything these characteristics only ever manifest in the presence of parties with an interest. Or better yet, parties with capabilities to add to their brand. Merely because they are that bad -a good kind of bad!
Blanks’ anecdote had me thinking about my first encounter with such a character; my late dad -the ultimate L’Homme Fatale supreme! Having gone through life witnessing the ease at which he navigated through spaces working his seemingly innate charm, made me want no less than my own polymorphous journey. My ‘pops’ was the kind of man whose entire existence was draped with non-disputable greatness oddly matched against a rather rogue personality and this showed in everything he stood for. His glamorous but not feminine sense of style (almost infant androgyny if I may), his interrelations with total strangers and his part structural, part libertine nature.
I know that most online search engines lead to articles about the seemingly selfish-sly-fuck of a dude whose only interest is to manipulate the opposite sex into eating from the palm of his hand before he heads for the hills. Well, in reality, such asses do exist but my particular interest in L’Homme Fatale, is the manner in which he tunes his behavior as dictated by his current surrounding. His sense of style is largely influenced by the very same surroundings, yet it sticks out. His sins (because like many human beings he will commit plenty) might as well be written at a beach front, because forgiving him takes very little. More than anything, just when you think you have him figured out, he goes ahead and rattles the your belief in the most captivating of ways.
Even if it means I have to live in stretched shadows of my late dad, 2012 is my year to try to morph into L’Homme Fatale the best way I know how!