"Silver" Anjelica Huston by Ara Gallant and Richard Avedon, 1976.
For most, the term glamour means looking poised, polished, and pulled together. It brings to mind a bygone era of endlessly chic Slim Aarons photos or iconic movie stars like Rita Hayworth and Ingrid Bergman. Maybe it’s someone beautiful smoking a cigarette. But when I think of something genuinely glamorous, I think of mystery and privacy. The delicate art of leaving something behind the curtain, keeping the cards close to the vest, revealing only when the time is right. This thinking is at odds with the overreaching demand to overshare in today’s world. We demand it from celebrities and our peers. We are obsessed with sharing, nothing is sacred.
Take a much-lauded singer and songwriter: Frank Ocean. At one point in his career, he was almost secretive—he let the music, and the odd well-written Tumblr post do the talking. An intelligent and exciting move for a millennial artist with a rabid following. Then about two years ago, things began to change; he was doing interviews and photoshoots for publications niche and mass alike. It made sense, he did have music to sell after all. But Ocean was also a hold out on Instagram until the day he made his profile public. Now, I was looking at selfies and pictures of a giant blue Ligne Roset Togo in his TriBeCa apartment. I know he drives a Bentley Bentayga and wears Tom Sachs Nikes. It looks like any other influencer with a bit of taste and plenty of money. The mystery he once had fit the music. This new public-facing persona isn’t glamorous. It ‘s just another celebrity sharing the banal calculated minutiae of everyday life. He is just like us.
"The delicate art of leaving something behind the curtain, keeping the cards close to the vest, revealing only when the time is right."
But debauchery is also glamorous. I think of the photo of model Kate Moss and then-fiance Pete Doherty of The Libertines hanging out of a window at London’s Hackney Empire Theatre smoking cigarettes. It was a classic paparazzi moment, two celebrities, clearly under the influence, not caring about who sees them. What makes it alluring is that the parties involved genuinely don’t give a fuck. Something else that feels extremely glamorous in today’s meticulously groomed and overly considered society. The thought of two beautiful people living their lives out loud, problems and all, is quite refreshing, and entirely glamorous. They were caught, they didn’t take the photo, edit it, and then post it themselves.
Glamour also comes with age. A certain je ne sais quoi can only be obtained by being on this earth for a while. The comfort and ease that comes with profoundly knowing yourself, your tastes, and what works for you might be the real definition of glamour. Take actress Anjelica Huston, someone who has lived an incredible life. She is vulnerable and candid, quick to share her stories (tragic and beautiful) and opinions, they feel real and authentic, they are fully formed. Seeing a woman of a certain age walking down the street, dressed perfectly, without a care in the world is a beautiful sight. Maybe glamour comes from the comfort in one’s own skin. Something that with the current climate and social pressures is hard to come by.
Glamour is achieved by finding comfortable confidence in one’s own skin. We must gaze inward, listen with intent, learn from those around us, and ultimately find unwavering self-awareness. Something that has nothing to do with social media, celebrity, or even age. Humility is an alluring and magnetic quality, especially when surrounded by thirsty over-sharers. Speak freely, celebrate others, naturally express your ability, expertise, and self-regard. It’s not about money or objects. You can’t buy glamour, you can only hope to learn it and then inhabit it. Share less, exude more. A new motto for a new era.