Divine secrets of the combover brotherhood

Tue, 26 Jul 2005 14:51:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, I found myself at a party at an exclusive club several flights above the streets of Manhattan. It was a really bad party -- a TV industry event that felt obligatory rather than celebratory, despite the free-flowing booze. Some low-level celebrities were sprinkled here and there -- I had a pleasant talk with Harold, though Kumar was a no-show -- but I was most intrigued by a paunchy guy with a graying swoop of hair curled around his head like stray mop fiber. This guy was loud and obnoxious, but still I tracked his movements around the room and followed his conversations, all the while wondering why I was so perversely interested in him. Then I realized: It was the combover.

The good, the bad and the fugly

Tue, 08 Mar 2005 17:41:00 +0000

The latest addition to the lexicon of the stylish isn't "metrosexual" or "Jewfro" or even "murse" (man purse), all of which are as passi as "bling." It's not exactly a new coinage, but one that has gained a foothold thanks to a certain fuzzy Australian boot. It is not pretty. It is ugly. In fact, it is fugly.

"Fugly" (short for "fucking ugly") may be schoolyard slang, but it's also the buzzword for countless Web sites and blogs, including the high-profile Go Fug Yourself and the inevitable Am I Fugly or Not? Web site. It's even responsible for the name of at least one band. In fact, according to Simon Doonan, creative director of Barneys New York, in the last year "fugly" became "common style parlance."

But what exactly does it mean to be fugly? Is there a formula, a certain pattern to be avoided, like the Tommy Hilfiger label? How does one go from being merely unattractive and unappealing to a state of hideousness so severe that it even sounds revolting? Why do celebrities do it so often? And why do we care when they do?

Salon.com > Melena Z. Ryzik

Divine secrets of the combover brotherhood

The good, the bad and the fugly