Dust Off Those Gossamer Wings and Fly

Good morning and welcome to MKOR! Like everyone else on this planet, I decided that it was really, really important that I be able to share my innermost thoughts, feelings, and attitude on life. Thus I decided to start a blog. It was either this or spend a lot of time kvetching to barkeeps. Not that I don't do enough of that already.

Fortunately, I have a convenient shorthand for describing most of these things and that is: the words, life, and style of Frank Sinatra. Now, mind you, this isn't going to be a Sinatra fan-blog. There are plenty of those around if you're in the market. Mostly this will be about being a man in the 21st Century, with subject matter including but not limited to style, food, drink, and dames. Just kidding about the dames part. Mostly. Nonetheless, at the wizened age of 35 and after one epically failed marriage (Frank had three busted hitches, although I think that if you land Ava Gardner, it counts as an unqualified success no matter how it turns out), I've come to realize that I've got a lot to learn from The Chairman of the Board, and so, I present to you: My Kind of Razzmatazz.

Our inaugural post falls under the heading of Personal Correspondence. Sadly, writing a letter has become a dying art and this has led to much woe and despair, mostly on the part of Postal Service employees who apparently have nothing to do these days but deliver Netflix movies and magazine subscriptions. I suspect, but cannot prove, that this has caused a lot of problems for society.

The background for this letter is as follows: some time around 1990, 80's pop star George Michael, fresh off massive successes as part of Brit-pop duo Wham! and his own smash solo album Faith, was beginning to feel a bit unsatisfied in life. According to interviews at the time, he was unhappy with his status as a ripped/tight/acid-washed jean-wearing sex icon to millions of teenage girls worldwide, and as such fought back hard against attempts by his record label to promote him thusly. In September 1990, he gave an interview to the L.A. Times magazine, entitled "The Reluctant Pop Star", in which he basically made it clear that he was (a) unhappy, (b) mad as hell, and/or (c) not going to take it anymore and would be staying away from these types of things, thank you very much.

As usual, Frank shows us how it's done. Sinatra took the opportunity to give George a little pep-talk, exempli gratia:

Full text:

FRANK SINATRA

September 9, 1990

Dear Friends,

When I saw your Calendar cover today about George Michael, "the reluctant pop star," my first reaction was he should thank the good Lord every morning when he wakes up to have all that he has. And that'll make two of us thanking God every morning for all that we have.

I don't understand a guy who lives "in hopes of reducing the strain of his celebrity status." Here's a kid who "wanted to be a pop star since I was about 7 years old." And now that he's a smash performer and songwriter at 27 he wants to quit doing what tons of gifted youngsters all over the world would shoot grandma for - just one crack at what he's complaining about.

Come on George, Loosen up. Swing, man, Dust off those gossamer wings and fly yourself to the moon of your choice and be grateful to carry the baggage we've all had to carry since those lean nights of sleeping on buses and helping the driver unload the instruments

And no more of that talk about "the tragedy of fame." The tragedy of fame is when no one shows up and you're singing to the cleaning lady in some empty joint that hasn't seen a paying customer since Saint Swithin's day. And you're nowhere near that; you're top dog on the top rung of a tall ladder called Stardom, which in Latin means thanks-to-the-fans who were there when it was lonely.

Talent must not be wasted. Those who have it - and you obviously do or today's Calendar cover article would have been about Rudy Vallee - those who have talent must hug it, embrace it, nurture it and share it lest it be taken away from you as fast as it was loaned to you.

Trust me. I've been there.

(Signed, 'Frank Sinatra')

© 1990 Frank Sinatra

As you can clearly see, this letter is the purest example of awesomeness that has yet been described by modern science. Among the highlights/themes: be thankful for what you have. Others would be grateful to get a fraction of it. Keep things in perspective. Stop whining. Swing, man.

Also: when you are Frank Sinatra, you are allowed to have the balls to copyright your own personal letters.

So let that be a lesson to you. As for Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou, his Reluctant Pop Star status resulted in a sophomore solo effort, Listen Without Prejudice, Vol. 1. The album was successful to be sure, but didn't approach anything resembling the stratospheric super-stardom of his previous work. Apparently millions of teenage girls weren't ready to accept him being a serious non-ripped/tight/acid-washed-jean-wearing sex icon. Years later we'd find out the possible reason that George felt unhappy about his status, after he came out publicly following an embarassing episode in a Beverly Hills public bathroom. Fortunately, attitudes have evolved, it's now possible to be an openly gay pop star with mass appeal (nota bene: MKOR unequivocally does not endorse the wearing of "guyliner" regardless of sexual orientation), and eventually all was forgiven, although his career continued to trend downward thereafter.

As for the music, George only released one video of note from that album and refused to appear in it (another video from the album, "Praying for Time", showed only the song lyrics projected against a dark background). In fact, he used the opportunity to immolate his trademark biker jacket, signifying his phoenix-like rebirth as a Serious Artist. What the video DID feature, however, brings us to our second piece of pure-awesome-razzmatazz: a reminder of a time when Supermodels Walked The Earth and mere mortals trembled in their shadow and begged for their puny lives to be spared.

For those keeping score: that's Naomi Campbell, Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington, Tatjana Patitz, and Cindy Crawford, all demonstrating their vocal chops by doing some very convincing lip-synching. Cindy is also demonstrating her acting chops by doing a very impressive portrayal of a naked supermodel in a tub. See? I told you there would be dames. You're welcome.

(Nota bene, props for the source material for today's post go to Letters of Note, a truly incredible blog that features, well, letters of note pertaining to various luminaries and historical events. Be sure to check it out. Here's their original post of the letter.)