I have a confession to make: I have a huge thing for Mick Jagger. I myself find it odd that I am so attracted to an old, wrinkly man.
My love for him eclipsed that of my original attraction to his band mate Keith Richards when I saw the Rolling Stones perform both at Duke this past fall. I don't know what it is about him, but Mick Jagger is definitely just a straight-up hottie, chicken-dancing and all.
However, let's strip Mick Jagger down (no pun intended) to the bare essentials and assume that he isn't a famous rock star and doesn't hang out with his amazingly fabulous rock star friends. Mick Jagger is now just a regular dude, who works at a bank somewhere, but retains his current personality and sweet dance moves. Would I still see the same sexiness in him if I stumbled upon him under this context?
Probably-but that's just me.
Let's look at old Mick from another angle. Let's assume he is just emerging onto the music scene. He is American, not British, and shows up to his first televised concert with a bunch of other old guys in his band, wearing tight leather pants, a tight black belly shirt and a green bolero (as he wore this past fall in Wallace Wade), and he proceeds to shimmy around the stage doing those now-famous chicken thrusts and waving arm movements.
Would the Stones still be seen as sex symbols now, or would they be seen as wrinkly, old men who did too many drugs back in the day?
Would Keith Richard's impressive use of eyeliner and Mick Jagger's wardrobe selection subject them to criticism if they were to emerge as new artists now?
My point here, people, is that hotness and coolness are all relative, a fact that is overlooked often, whether in deciding who is "cool" or "hot" in the celebrity realm or on Duke's campus.
Think of the Mick Jaggers who walk among us daily, their unique brand of attractiveness and coolness unrecognized or simply undiscovered because Duke does not always provide them with an outlet in which to express it.
Mick Jagger is cool because he's original, and he's hot because he's always himself, and I think he would still be cool whether he was a regular dude at a bank or the rock god that he is today.
Think of how many other people are doing exactly this daily on campus, and think how often we might overlook these people who march to their own drummer simply because they don't necessarily fit into what is considered "hot" and "cool" at Duke.
Think of how vastly different our current perceptions are from what we considered "hot" and "cool" in high school, as well as how these standards will once again change as we go out into the real world and as we grow older.
So what's the deal here, people? Why do we opt to comply with a fairly homogenous brand of cool?
The other day, I bravely sat down with the cute kid in my Spanish class who I always wanted to get to know but find myself weirdly staring at in class instead.
He always seemed artsy and somewhat mysterious to me, and I've always thought he was really cool and attractive in his own way. Though this was our first time talking, we ended up having a great chat and now might even continue our relationship past awkward staring.
Thinking about my encounter, I'm happy that I sat down and shared a snack with someone who I had always wanted to get to know, and who probably doesn't fit into the very limited group of "cool" at Duke.
But I also wondered why Spanish boy and I hadn't gotten to know each other before. Why had we settled for mutual ignorance of each other all year when there was a real potential for a friendship? Were we both uncomfortable leaving our social comfort zones?
How many other people at Duke want to reach out to those they find interesting, but never do?
Standards of coolness change, as evidenced by the great divide between Mick Jagger and the modern-day Justin Timberlakes. However, being unique deserves more props, especially as college is a time full of changes that you can use to figure out who you are and who you want to be.
Attractiveness, as evidenced by my crush on an old guy, is relative, and each of our definitions for what and who we find attractive cannot fit into any mold.
So why should we try and make one?
Laura Zwiener is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Friday.
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