THE JOURNAL
Illustration by Ms Michelle Thompson
When images of Ms Greta Gerwig’s Barbie film were first released last year, it wasn’t Ms Margot Robbie as Barbie that dominated the headlines. Instead, it was Mr Ryan Gosling as her on-off boyfriend, Ken, thanks to his 1980s-influenced and body-baring outfits. Think neon-hued rollerblading sets and denim vests designed to show off a shredded eight-pack. As the rabid online response suggests, Gosling’s Ken is the perfect example of a masculine ideal arriving – or, indeed, returning – this summer: the himbo.
See also Mr Channing Tatum’s cheeseball strippers-with-a-heart franchise, Magic Mike, which returned for a third instalment in February, and the Hulu series Welcome To Chippendales, which tells the foundational story of the eponymous male dancers, complete with oiled-up abs and tearaway trousers. Not to mention the now-traditional seasonal hysteria over Love Island, which returns each summer with a new line-up of handsome-but-dim male contestants in too-tight clothing. The himbo isn’t limited to TV and film, either: the idea has become something of a unicorn on TikTok, where videos with the hashtag have amassed more than 415 million views. With the downward cycle of the news and the sharp rises in existential male anxiety, is it time to rest your mind for once and invest in the body beautiful instead?
Mr Gary Armstrong, the editor of CircleZeroEight, a new magazine that combines sport with fashion, believes the return of the himbo is in line with how a new generation of men are thinking about themselves. “[Young men] don’t drink and they don’t smoke and they don’t party,” he says. “They go to the gym and they work out. There’s much more of a ‘my body is a temple’ sort of thing that lends itself to that aesthetic.” In his view, there’s something progressive in this himbo state of mind. “There’s no shame in vanity,” he says. “Self-care is a good thing. And if you want to practice that by just looking like that, then you should.”
In 1988, The Washington Post journalist Ms Rita Kempley wrote a story coining the term “himbo” – a corruption of the word bimbo, long used for beautiful but dumb women. Kempley was inspired by the new cohort of jacked men in the contemporary public eye, from Mr Arnold Schwarzenegger to Messrs Jean-Claude Van Damme and Sylvester Stallone. “Their chest measurements rival Dolly Parton’s,” she wrote. “Their brains would embarrass a squid… They’re bombshells with a Y chromosome.”
“He seems like a feminist with no thoughts. I’m sure he has thoughts – but he has kept them to himself”
Welcome To Chippendales documents this moment in the 1980s by telling the story of the male strip club where abs, thongs and gyrating came as standard. Costume designer Ms Peggy Schnitzer – who made individual thongs for each actor – says the objectification of the male dancers was something new, and it feels enlightened for that reason. “It was sort of a new age,” she says. “Male stripping like women have been stripping for men. It’s an interesting role reversal to see that.”
Schnitzer was struck, too, by the level of work that goes into that level of fitness. “I now have this huge appreciation for what it takes to keep their bodies like that,” she says. “[It’s one thing if you’re] going to wear clothes and stay in shape and look good. It’s another thing when you’re wearing a G-string, and seen from all angles.”
Since then, men have begun to objectify themselves more readily. The himbo was repackaged as the metrosexual in the 2000s – a man whose masculinity wasn’t threatened by face masks or a splurge on some nice threads. Armstrong argues that, in 2023, this has been absorbed into the culture. “Men are increasingly more about self-care in terms of aesthetics, taking care of yourself, getting facials,” he says. “Metrosexuality is kind of the norm.” The return of the metrosexual’s cultural ancestor is – quite literally – a no-brainer.
For women, a himbo is aesthetically pleasing but, in a world of toxic masculinity, red flags and fuckboys, he has other appeals, too. Journalist Ms BA Parker recorded a podcast for The Cut, “In Search Of The Himbo”, in December 2021. She says the idealisation of the himbo can be connected to our digital world. “During the pandemic, we all were just so terminally online,” she says. “So, if there’s a gorgeous guy with nice biceps, [they become] a safe space for me to project all of my hopes and dreams on.”
She points to actors such as Mr Keanu Reeves, who proudly wear the “himbo” badge (“I’m a meathead,” he said in a 1995 interview. “I can’t help it, man.”) “[Reeves is] still adored because we project this sense of safety on him,” Parker says. “He seems like a feminist with no thoughts. I’m sure he has thoughts – but he has kept them to himself.”
“There are a lot of good reasons to just lift heavy, feel great, have fun and get laid”
At a cultural moment when we’re all overexposed to the thoughts of others – via social media and the blaring opinions of various male columnists – it’s unsurprising that the strong but simple type might seem appealing. Mr Andrew Groves, professor of fashion design at the University of Westminster and the director of the Westminster Menswear Archive, warns that the himbo may signal “a nostalgic return to more traditional gender roles and a backlash against recent gender fluidity”. But he does acknowledge there are other factors. “It may be related to the traumatic events of the past three years, which have affected us all deeply,” he says. “In this context, the traditional masculine body can be seen as reassuring.” The himbo might have a hard-honed physique, but he is also a comfort blanket of a man.
It’s a shift that’s reflected in menswear, too. After years of oversized, square-shouldered, 1990s-inspired clothing, there’s been a gradual swing towards more body-conscious (and body-revealing) styles. The LA-based brand Yeah, I Work Out, for example, celebrates the fitness culture of the 1980s and the jacked-up aesthetic of Venice Beach. “The weightlifting culture at that time was full of camaraderie,” says its founder, Mr Jason Thome. “It was multi-ethnic and a unique place in time. People lifted huge and defined the sport and culture forever.”
Its appeal today, Thome believes, is straightforward: “It’s a nice antidote to the crazy world we live in,” he says. “There are a lot of good reasons to just lift heavy, feel great, have fun and get laid.” Sounds like a recipe for summer to us.