Pssst you, stop whatever you’re doing. I need your unadulterated attention for this one.
It’s almost ridiculous how superficial I’m about to get, but you know what, it’s well worth it. We’re about to do an analysis on the situation of men in London.
This species of dude is traditionally known for their pronunciations, sophistication and old-fashioned charm, around the world. That’s the impression I came to this city with. I was specifically told that London men just know how to treat a woman. They will hold the door open for you, they will offer to lift your heavy bags, they will laugh with you and then self-depricatingly laugh at themselves, they will give you their coat when you’re cold (which you will be all year round) and they will dress ridiculously well. And after my month-long stay here, I’ve now come to terms with what I’ve been missing for all my adult life.
I do have to say though, when I say London men, I don’t just mean British men, but men, in general, who reside here. It’s like they are given a code of conduct before moving to this city. In the last four weeks, I’ve met Australian, Indian, American and Italian men – all in London – and I tell you what, they are a changed species here. This two thousand year old city must cast a supernatural spell or something.
The mannerisms of the male in London is much to do with the way they treat women. Whether he’s tattooed or pierced, he will compliment you just like a man in a suit would. Call me a sucker, but even when my fruit seller on High Holborn yells out cheers darlin’ through his broken-toothed smile, it makes me giggle. I’m starting to feel that all this could be an aftermath of all the lining up they do here. Men here spend just as much time on their hair as they do in queues. Stand at Oxford Circus tube station around 6pm on a weekday and you’ll know what I mean; elbows are in, heads are down and gorgeousness is in place.
London men dress like a man should dress; sharp, suited and stupidly handsome. It could be the perfect hair, or the tease of the unknowing architecture of the body beneath all those layers, whatever it is, it’s goddam sexy. They understand the difference between pea coats, duffles, parcas and trenches. They are the masters of pocket squares and sock-less shoes. Suits on men look a million times better here than anywhere else in the world. Even on their worst day, they look the best.
Imagine the fireworks when these mannerisms transcend to the bedroom… ooh la la.