Paul Van Haver may, in fact, be the most beautiful man in the world.
Followed closely by Gael García Bernal. And Taye Diggs.
As a woman whose first crush was on "The Blond Boy in Hook" I can claim an unhealthy dose of celebrity crushes over the years, from my favorite high school bands' drummers (Nathan Young) to French actors (Jean Dujardin) to creative directors (Benh Zeitlin) to those ones I can't quite figure out (Aziz Ansari for the win!). And I'm not ashamed!
... or am I?
This past weekend I got to see the most beautiful man in the world, commonly known as Stromae, perform at The Fulton in Hollywood. As Gavin and I waited in line with dozens of scantily-clad twenty-somethings I saw hand-drawn signs, specialty Stromae t-shirts, and lots of cleavage all screaming the same thing: "Notice Me!"
I started to question the motives and assumptions of those of us with Famous Fever. Did all one thousand people in queue actually believe that the man on stage was going to recognize us in the sea of faces? Did we think we would stand out in the crowd by showing more skin or holding a piece of paper? And, if so, what did we think would happen when he saw us?
Caitlin's Daydream: Stromae would notice me from stage because of my hair (if I have one thing that makes me stand out in a crowd it is my blond mane) and search me out after the show. He would track me down walking to my car and thank me in his thick Belgian accent for being so in tune with his lyrics--he could read all my emotions from where he was performing--and ask a little more about my philosophy on life. Because we are both such deep thinkers we would talk with lots of nods and hand gestures for a while about pacifism and a fatherless generation and God. He would suggest that we meet for coffee the next day to continue our discussion. Of course Gavin would come along too since he is more brilliant than I am and could make a case for Team Baird. At the end of our coffee-turned-lunch-date he would suggest I come visit him in Belgium and, later, become Mrs. Van Haver. And then we would both change the world through his European stardom and my big smile.
Reality: Stromae points to Gavin a couple songs in because he is literally a head taller than the rest of the crowd.
Towering Brother steals the show.
And you know what? Gavin and I both felt validated. Not because one of our favorite singers recognized a 6'3" redhead (not hard to do) but because he never pointed to the people with the signs. Or the people with the shirts. Or the people with the lack of shirts. He pointed to the guy who was following along and having a good time. The one person in the crowd who didn't need some musician to validate his coolness or acknowledge his good looks.
So that is why I am ashamed. Ashamed that I get sucked into feeling that only the rich, beautiful, talented people can give me an identity.
I'm a woman with a big heart and a pretty face. I'm a woman who loves well and teaches well. I'm a woman with reachable dreams and a hope for humanity. I'm a woman who is surrounded by amazing people who make conversation and travel and life all worth it.
And I don't need a celebrity to prove it.
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