Can We Please Retire the "Macklemore Cut"?
Let’s be honest: it’s getting really hard to tell who’s gay these days.
It’s been hard enough since Metrosexuals entered the culture back in the 2000 aughts, blurring the line between fashion-conscious and sexual ambiguity. David Beckham may have been the first to lay claim to this label, but the reality was less sport celebrity and more Frasier and Niles Crane. Swap shin guards for Kiehl’s facial cream, and you can imagine the confusion.
Where previously one could have interpreted stylish urbanity amongst a cosmopolitan lifestyle as gay sophistication, the modern Metrosexuals made it considerably harder.
But that was nothing compared to the Hipster pandemic of the last half-decade. If the “Are they?” or “Aren’t they?” line was blurred before, the Hipster added a Vaseline-lensed Instagram filter from a decade they never lived through. Suddenly, 20-somethings were transforming every alternative trend into a 1970s-looking porno by way of Urban Outfitters, topping each anachronistic nod with infuriating irony.
If the Metrosexual was plucked from a line of Broadway musical attendees during intermission, the Hipster wandered his way onto the scene when he couldn’t locate an unmarked speakeasy bar in a newly-gentrified neighborhood in Brooklyn.
It’s hard to take anyone seriously who twirls the wispy ends of a strongman moustache while weighing only 99 pounds and reeking of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Enter the "Macklemore cut," famously worn by the rap artist of the same name. Its ubiquity has eclipsed both the Metros and the Hipsters by penetrating gay perception like some unshakeable STD. (If only Prep could protect against bad taste.)
I have yet to find anyone, straight or gay, on which the cut can be considered becoming. But it’s impossible to tell gender or sexuality with this faux pas. It looks like an unkempt airstrip out of The Peanut Butter Solution in desperate need of a Belgian wax.
Now, this handicap of a haircut has made it into the mainstream, bringing even the muscled straight men at the local gym into question. Where they were once eye candy I could fantasize about in the shower, now I can’t help looking for a roofie on the locker room floor just for the opportunity to shave their uneven heads down to a buzzcut. It’s either that or put makeup on a Pentecostal woman, but I’m not that gay.
But the Macklemore is that bad. Which is why I suggest what so many are thinking: please retire it already.