A Very Brief Guide to the World of The Hobbit

Peter Jackson finds himself in a strange place. Since quite some time before the release of The Hobbit (2012), he has had to defend his decision to turn a book of considerably modest length compared to Tolkien's follow-up, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, into a trilogy too. Warner Brothers wanted answers, as did test audiences and perhaps most important of all, so did the fans.

I make a terrible critic. Perhaps when one knows what goes into making a film, one is more forgiving. Furthermore, I believe that everyone is entitled to a voice and film is one of the greatest modern mediums for that. On the other hand, it is a terrible shame when someone has been given the opportunity to use her or his voice and the opportunity ended up being abused. For that, there should be no excuse. Skipping to the point, my critically challenged disposition has made me quite unlikely to criticise Jackson for his indulgence.

I do bear some critique for his style of filmmaking, however. I believe he sometimes tends to underestimate his viewer's ability to emote on his or her own. The Lovely Bones (2010) was a prime example of this, in my book. Jackson took on highly personal subject matter and made it literal. The film was lovely to look at and the performances were superb, but I found it ever so slightly condescending, as though I were incapable of grasping the emotions contained in the story on my own, like I needed to be told what to feel. Of course, the Hollywood style of filmmaking has a tendency to do this, but not always to quite the same degree.

The Hobbit, however, is a perfect fit in my opinion, as its spirit is by far more youthful than that of The Lord of the Rings. The book is playful, childlike and deliciously naive. From this point of view, I feel as though Jackson's style of filmmaking not only compliments the subject matter, but the subject matter depends on him.

While watching The Hobbit, I was whisked away on a journey into my past, particularly a certain obsessive Tolkien phase. I fell in love with the mythology of his Middle Earth. Tolkien is said to have lamented, along with his peers, most notably C.S. Lewis, author of the Narnia book series, the fact that Britain essentially lacked the kind of folk tales that he had always loved. Tolkien was a great admirer of Scandinavian folklore and drew extensively from northern European mythology in his work, explaining the prevalence of creatures such as dwarves, trolls and goblins in his stories. In a way, his creation of a Hobbit race may have been born of his sense of wonderment at being exposed to these tales. The Hobbits, in my mind, represent a provincial kind of English tribe exposed, for the first time, to the great wide world, for better or worse. His decision to make them small in stature, further contributed to a sense of being overwhelmed upon stumbling onto a world such as Middle Earth.

Peter Jackson drew extensively from Tolkien's other works, especially from The Lord of the Rings appendices, The Silmarilion and Unfinished Tales to flesh out the screenplay for the Hobbit trilogy. It struck me, while watching the film, that others might enjoy a bite-sized bit of information on Tolkien's world in order to better appreciate Jackson's film version and so, I endeavoured to lay down a few notes. I am quite aware that there are greater fans than me on all matters Tolkien, but what I offer is what enthralled me about Tolkien's work and how that knowledge enriched my viewing experience of The Hobbit. So here follows a brief guide to Middle Earth in five short notes that might enlighten the enthusiast and hopefully not grieve the fan too much.

1. The Gods

Tolkien cannot be fully appreciated without acknowledging his debt to Christian mythology. Like C.S. Lewis, Tolkien set out to create an entire Middle earth religion in parallel to Christianity. The Silmarilion, quite like the Old Testament, functions as a series of stories that depict the world's beginnings as well as the early events that shaped it. At the top of Tolkien's hierarchy sits Eru, a sentient being who had existed before time began (in other words, God). Eru created the Valar, a race of demigods not unlike the archangels. It was their duty to shape the world. As in the Bible, the origins of the universe do not quite feature in Tolkien's Midle Earth works, but rather history accounts only for what happened on earth.

The Valar created countless servants whose duty it was to carry out their wishes and to help them build the world. Amongst these beings, called the Maya, were the sun (female) and moon (male). One of the Valar turned from the others and became Middle Earth's first dark lord (or the devil), known as Morgoth. It was he who created Sauron as his right hand. At about the time Isildur conquered Mordor and slew the dark lord Sauron, the Valar secretly sent the wizards to help the elves govern the forces of darkness and keep an eye on the peace. Well known beings created by the Valar include, then, the five wizards, possibly Tom Bombadil (who was impervious to the ring), the sun and moon and so forth. Morgoth, the fallen Valar, created Sauron, the Balrogs, dragons, trolls, serpents and almost every other fell creature in Middle Earth.

2. The Earth Dwellers

Eru's firstborn were the elves, who were essentially earth-bound angels, immortal and closely tied to Valinor, the grey havens (or heaven) in the west. The world had been created and now Eru's people would inhabit it. They were born before the creation of the sun and therefore share a very close bond with the stars. The Silmarilion (plural for Silmaril), for instance, are jewels forged by Feanor, a high elf, which brought much misery to the world - until they were cast to the heavens by Feanor himself and became stars. The history of the elves is long, epic and morbid and perhaps reflects Tolkien's experiences of World War I best, not in terms of the events that occur in its stories that span a few thousand years, but in their macabre tones.

Men (or humans) were the second race to be born and were, at first, adored by the elves. There is a firstborn-second born dynamic between the two races, one that is made beautifully poignant when the elves were first faced with the mortality of men. They did not know natural death and so, fell into deep despair when their friends grew older and eventually died. The Lord of the Rings trilogy occurs during the time when many of the elves had started to return to Valinor in order for the second born to rule the earth.

Tolkien is vague about the origins of the dwarves and Hobbits, but it can be inferred that they were the byproduct of time passing. The dwarves do possess some skill in magic, or at least possess talents that both elf an man is incapable of.

The orc race used to be elves that strayed from their tribes and subsequently were ensnared by Morgoth, corrupted and assimilated into his minion.

Much of Middle Earth's history is shaped by the races featured here and the wars that transpired between them.

3. The Importance of the Ring

At first, Sauron (Middle Earth's second dark lord), assumed a fair form, looking almost elf-like, so as to better deceive the folk of Middle Earth. In that time, he forged the great rings, each possessed of a unique talent. He gave them to the elves, dwarves and men, the latter of which received the most. In his deception, he also crafted one ring for himself that would rule all others.

Galadriel still carries hers. Gandalf secretly carries the ring of the flame of Anor, one that belonged to one of the high elves, but ultimately, the one ring was the only one that mattered. In Gollum's possession, the ring remained hidden and it was only when it came to Bilbo that it resurfaced.

4. The Wizard Order

When the wizards arrived in Middle Earth, some of them began to forget their purpose. The elves assigned them a hierarchy, placing Saruman at the head of the order because of his knowledge of the dark arts. Galadriel was apprehensive about his appointment, sensing that Gandalf possessed a more benevolent nature, but agreed that Saruman's skills set was more important at the time. There were five wizards in total - Saruman the White was at the head of the order, Gandalf the Grey was second in line, two blue wizards were third and Radagast the Brown was fourth in the order. Tolkien was not clear on what happened to the blue wizards, citing only that they had migrated east. I remember thinking, however, that he suggested their assassination by Saruman in a paragraph in Unfinished Tales, a compendium of his personal notes published posthumously by his son, Christopher Tolkien.

Gandalf's great "dethroning" of Saruman is what brought Saruman's position as head of the wizard order to an end and is why Gandalf was promoted to white status upon his return from death after killing the Balrog in Lord of the Rings. Radagast, featured in The Hobbit film, essentially withdrew from company and his reclusive and eccentric nature rendered him insane to most.

5. Bilbo's Journey

The story of The Hobbit carries by far less gravity than the collective journeys of the characters in The Lord of the Rings. In the latter, Sauron's ring must be destroyed, or the world would fall into darkness. Nations converge in a single purpose. The Hobbit, on the other hand is a simpler journey, and is the one most centred on the dwarves out of all of Tolkien's books.

Bilbo is coaxed into embarking on a journey with a company of strangers by Gandalf. Not only must he leave his peace-loving country for stranger lands, but he will also have to put himself in mortal danger in order to help the dwarves reclaim their old kingdom, which had been beset by the dragon, Smaug. En route, Bilbo encounters Gollum, a sinewy and pallid little creature that used to be a halfling similar to a Hobbit, but the unnaturally long years spent in the company of the ring have withered his body and eaten away at his mind. Gollum grapples with two very distinct personalities. It is in Gollum's underground lair that Bilbo finds the ring and takes it as his own.

At the time of The Hobbit, the ring does not pose the threat that it does in The Lord of the Rings, but its emergence from obscurity feeds the Necromancer, a dark spirit that haunts Mirkwood. The Necromancer is Sauron's spirit, which grows stronger and stronger until it is able to take tangible form again.


So, despite The Hobbit's modest size as a book, Tolkien's collective work provides Jackson and his team with plenty of material for another trilogy. In my mind, Jackson was not going to let the opportunity to explore the richness of Tolkien's world pass him by. In some ways, however, I understand arguments against Jackson's expansion of the book. The Hobbit was, after all, not written to sustain such a lengthy narrative, whereas The Lord of the Rings was. Perhaps The Hobbit, a far more expensive trilogy than The Lord of the Rings, is made for the fans.

While I have my criticisms for The Hobbit, which include my disenchantment with the overly crisp digital imagery and the haphazard nature of Howard Shore's score, I support Peter Jackson. He is an infectiously impassioned filmmaker with a knack for the nostalgic. There is a tendency to lean towards a chocolate box aesthetic, but what makes me forgive some of his tastes as a filmmaker is that he uncompromisingly favours story. His films are never "designed" in the same way that the majority of Hollywood films tend to be, but at the same time, he is not irresponsible either. He pushes, yes. There is a nonconformism to him and an unwillingness to compromise on his filmic sensibilities that one can admire. When all is said and done, The Hobbit is a cinematic event.

Hanfred Rauch

The Dark Knight and Zeitgeist

I remember it well. Gritty realism underscored by an air of the otherworldly. A carefully constructed plot far more complex than its namesake's predecessors, but so elegant in its simplicity. Batman Begins (2005) signalled an entirely new series that flawlessly repackaged a franchise I had loved dearly growing up. I was a die hard fan of the Tim Burton Batman franchise. I still am. Batman Returns (1992) in particular resonated perfectly with the maelstrom that was my adolescence. What Tim Burton managed to convey so vividly was Batman's inner conflict with his duality.

To my chagrin at times, I have always exuded certain clean-cut, "headboy"-like qualities that I have often feared lent me an air of tedium. What Burton's Batman made me realise, however, was that I'd always lived in two worlds and that I too grappled with my own kind of duality. My insular world, as I suspect everyone's to be, is one of heightened reality and seldom seeps through into my more public reality. Spending one's formative years in a place one is mostly at odds with tends to lead one to embellish somewhat the parameters of the real. Despite my choir boy persona, which was the image I felt most acceptable and the easiest to maintain, I have often been informed, for better or worse, that my ideas were a little strange. My cover, at times, had become blown. Whether such comments hurt me, or fed me, I found solace in the Batman. Batman's not like everyone else. He's a loner. A rebel. Totally in touch with his dark side. Awesome. And even in his Joel Schumacher days, the memory of the Burton Batmans always endured.

Christopher Nolan

Then along came Christopher Nolan. I had followed his work closely at film school. His 1998 film, Following, was a film student's dream. The plot was intriguing, the visuals grimy, yet precise (the film was shot in black and white) and the actors were unknown. It felt within reach, but at the same time, it served as a reminder of the discipline necessary to be able to create on that level. His breakthrough film, Memento (2000), tapped so cleverly into the zeitgeist of the time. A string of films, most notably perhaps the films, Dark City (1998), The Truman Show (1998) and The Matrix (1999), all explored the notion of mistrust of the status quo and that reality is not as it seems. Memento seemed to take it a step further by turning that paranoia inwards. "How much can you trust yourself?" was its food for thought. And it was so clever; a commercial film telling a story in reverse chronological order while at the same time maintaining a three-act structure.

Memento had placed Nolan solidly in the ranks of filmmakers who are afforded a good deal of creative freedom. He followed Memento with Insomnia (2002), a contemplative thriller that seemed more like an opportunity for Al Pacino and Robin Williams to work together. Insomnia's cat-and-mouse plot structure (not Nolan's screenplay) seemed rather meek by comparison, but it was still a very solid effort and one that kept Nolan in the game while he constructed a reinvention of the Batman franchise.

One had grown almost accustomed to the charm of the actors who previously donned the bat suit. Michael Keaton complimented Burton's oddity to the tea, Val Kilmer brought star power to the role and George Clooney, though the experience was probably a low point in his career, brought a certain swagger. So, when news surfaced that Christian Bale was taking the role, I had my reservations. He is a fine actor, one that truly moved me to tears (albeit in my youth) in that scene towards the end of Spielberg's Empire of the Sun (1987) where he, after throwing an explosive tantrum, comes to a standstill and says, "I can't remember what my parents looks like". Similarly, I thought his performance in American Psycho (2000) was one of the most gutsy career moves I could remember at the time. But Batman? Batman had been portrayed almost exclusively as an anti-hero with a quirk or two. Christian Bale was far too serious. But then I saw the film and realised that it simply did not matter. Nolan has never allowed a star to eclipse the quality of his films and Bale has never adopted the Hollywood persona. Everything fell into place.

Liam Neeson provided Batman Begins with the magnetism it needed to launch the franchise and Bale, like any sensible actor, had the good sense to let his Batman not steal the show, but provide the framework for whatever came next. What Nolan needed was a Batman that would not be corrupted by ego or hard work. He needed Christian Bale. The subordinate characters, then, became the trilogy's thrills. Apart from the greats, like Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman, whose presence would anchor the trilogy, each film also provided a villain one could talk about, the most memorable of which was Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight (2008).

Ledger's enthralling performance aside, I marvelled at Nolan's creation of a villain like the Joker. Here was a person about whom we, as an audience, knew nothing. In fact, every time the Joker reminisces on his past, it is revealed to be a lie concocted for his own amusement. What Nolan had done was something so daring yet so simple. He removed his villain's button. There was simply nothing that could get to him. He was the very embodiment of anarchy, a theme that informed, as it turned out, the entire trilogy. The great threat at any given time, were the agents of anarchy that opposed the system and Batman was merely a vigilante side-effect trying to keep chaos at bay.

As a film scholar, I have grown accustomed to identifying patterns as a means of keeping myself amused in a nerdy sort of way. I often wonder, particularly when I feel most overwhelmed by a situation, where things fit into the greater scheme of things. I enjoy history a great deal, though I never excelled at human history at school (dinosaurs were more my thing). The implications of war, the great informant of history, escaped me. It was only as I grew older, or matured in my thinking that history began to lure me in. And I think my way in was through film history. By establishing a method by which to group events together in film's existence, I had simultaneously established a pattern maker for history at large.

For this reason, I recently looked at Nolan's Batman with a fresh pair of eyes, wondering what place The Dark Knight would hold in the history of film. Much of film history occurs alongside film's technological milestones - the magic lantern, kinetoscope, zoetrope, sound, colour and the invention of video are but some of the factors that have shaped the course of film the most. These details, in all honesty, are the responsible historian's milestones, as they are more scientific and irrefutable. My interests, however, have been piqued by the more human, in my opinion, developments in film, most predominantly perhaps, those of the thematic.

D.W. Griffith might have been a politically controversial figure, but he, along with many technical developments in editing, introduced the power of theme to film. Few took film seriously at the time, but he managed to render film potentially as serious as classical literature, or theatre. In Birth of a Nation (1915), Griffith made the personal victory of his characters feel like a political victory for the American south. Intolerance (1916) juxtaposed multiple time periods and in so doing, foregrounded one of the human race's oldest themes, as suggested by the title. The filmmakers of the Soviet era, Pudovkin and Eisenstein, both film theorists as well as filmmakers, intellectualised the theories of Griffith further and went on to influence the French of the nouvelle vague era of the 1960s and, in turn, the New Hollywood of the 1970s. What made all of these filmmakers noteworthy were not their technological achievements so much as their attention to theme, which is a cornerstone of narrative.

Though Nolan's Dark Knight franchise has mostly been showered with technology-centred accolades, I believe that the Dark Knight contributes greatly to popular depictions of contemporary zeitgeist. Since the introduction of the League of Shadows in the first film, it became clear that this dark knight was less concerned with inner duality and/or turmoil and instead reverted back to what was possibly Bob Kane's initial intention when he created Batman as a comic book character in post-depression America. It was a noir sort of time of cloak and dagger and a World War that was spinning out of control across the Atlantic, which was reflected in American film and American popular culture. And Batman, a man capable of adopting the dark side as his own, could use darkness against those who had used it on their own. Unlike Superman, the wholesome, invulnerable, all-American demigod, Batman, a flawed and imperfect hero, the very essence of an anti-hero, was going to fight evil from the inside.

Nolan's Batman treads constantly on a precipice, protecting the capitalist status quo from the anarchists who believe that it should be vanquished. It all echoes a kind of French Revolution - the villains have little regard for what happens when the powers that be fall - they want change and for the rest, let's wait and see. What Batman represents in Nolan's films is a reminder that although we may not be satisfied with the state of the world, change should not be overly swift and should definitely not come as the result of chaos. In essence, Batman guards the world from chaos and extremism, both of which are very real threats to the world today. One need only look to recent revolts in the Arab States for confirmation of this. What is novel about Nolan's presentation of the material is that it occurs in the civilised west.

I believe that history, at least in film, holds a place for Nolan's The Dark Knight. There have been many conspiracy theory-style documentaries regarding the recession, as well as fictional films such as Oliver Stone's quite agreeable Wall Street (1987) resuscitation, Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (2010), but none have elevated our zeitgeist surrounding the recession to the level of myth in quite the same way as Nolan has.

There have been many literal interpretations of the current sociopolitical climate, but The Dark Knight, in my opinion, has been the most effective, not only because it so intelligently interweaves a very modern theme into a hero-based narrative, but also because the theme is not packaged in a way that is sensational or conspiratorial. There is no getting past the fact that Batman is a grown man who goes about his business flapping his cape and wearing an animal-themed mask, but it is precisely this theatricality that nonetheless transports us to a world familiar yet different, in which we  are able to gauge our own world with a fresh pair of eyes. This has always been the nature of good mythology and like all good mythology, it has a way of sticking around for a long time to remind us of our nature.

Hanfred Rauch

Man About Town

Today's male finds himself in a strange place. One could say that times have changed, and indeed they have, but one would not be saying a great deal at all. At least, one would be stating the abundantly obvious. For every dandy there is also a cowboy and I doubt that this has ever rung less true. The only difference nowadays is that even the cowboy image has had a makeover since the release of the film, Brokeback Mountain. Diversity is seldom as celebrated as it is amongst human beings as a species. What has perhaps altered men's perception of themselves in modern society is the influence of the media and in particular the branding of so-called products for men. The use of moisturiser, for instance, is a concept made ever so slightly more acceptable to men thanks to a dominance of greys, blues and hot rod red in the label design of brands.

"Liberty Leading the People" by Eugene Delacroix
an icon of Romanticist art

Flamboyant displays of beauty and colour to attract a female is something traditionally reserved for the animal kingdom. We human men have generally provided female beauty with a frame. A woman is something to be shown off, something to be in possession of and to be paraded for other men to envy. Many would say that we have come a long way, but this approach is still echoed in dance, such as ballet and ballroom and one would be hard pressed to find a wedding guest discussing fervently what the groom was wearing. Furthermore, the female form has been the primary subject of some of the greatest masterpieces ever conceived in art, film and photography.


Some women might argue that a certain pleasure is taken away from them, many of whom would also like more opportunity to behold the male, though women perhaps do not behold men in quite the same way as men behold women. Do women objectify men less? I don't believe so. The success of this year's summer hit, Steven Soderbergh's Magic Mike, attests to this fact. But as much as women objectify men, they look for different qualities in a man than men look for in women, or at least, so I am told.

What has changed is that we now enjoy more gender equality than before, and I hasten to include that, to a large extent, the developed world has become more tolerant of homosexual culture. More women are now in positions that dictate what general society is fed by the media. New media and in particular social media has also given anyone with an opinion a voice. For these reasons, I believe that men suddenly find themselves bearing more personal responsibility on matters of self preservation. Men have become more self aware. Whether we succeed at cultivating a more attractive facade or not, we find ourselves exchanging workout routines, smoothie recipes and, in some instances, even grooming tips.

The last decade has seen the rise of the metrosexual, a term used to describe a heterosexual man with a penchant for grooming, fashion and, it would seem in some circles, even makeup. The trend has become so ingrained in modern society that more recent terms, such as "peacock", have been employed to describe men who take metrosexuality a step further.

It's not what you think. It's...traditional.
A rice ad on the Seoul subway by G-Market,
the Korean equivalent of E-bay.

Living in Seoul, South Korea, one is constantly bombarded with imagery depicting men in decidedly effeminate ways, pushing the boundaries of what westeners would consider peacocking even further. Most any hot-blooded western man would look look at the way that men are portrayed here and think, "gay". But gay western men are not necessarily prone to wearing make-up. Wearing make-up does not classify a man as gay, it is only considered to be something that women do. In fact, the notion of men wearing make-up is probably more rife amongst sub-cultures, such as goths and emos. But in Korean culture, wearing make-up is not a rite of passage into a sub-culture. It is the way that men do it nowadays. Make-up is standard issue in the South Korean military, albeit in the form of "camouflage make-up" (also available at all good cosmetics stores). So, really, there is nothing taboo about it.

For a western-minded man, being surrounded by men whose foundation rubs off on their shirt collars can be a tad disconcerting, but when considering the role that men play in Korean society and the pressure they are under to act as the voices of reason is Korean society, it almost makes sense that men would become quite so obsessed with their appearance, particularly to be perceived as handsome, another measure of a man's success in the workplace. A recent BBC News article reasoned that South Koreans' view on male make-up is not necessarily the result of the metrosexual trend, but quite the opposite - it is more closely related to their traditional view of looking impeccable to get the job, get married, get promoted and get with the dream. Rosy-cheeked men fresh from skin grafts, carrying their girlfriends' handbags are the norm. One would think, then, that Koreans have figured it out, that their men are the very epitome of the new male, but the sad truth is that they still condemn homosexuality, some even citing that it does not exist in Korea when they are irrefutably wrong. Korea remains a culture in which tradition reigns supreme.

Concerning the male's role in Korean society, it is perhaps due to some residual Confucianist baggage that Koreans still generally prefer to be told what to do by men. The elderly man sits at the top of the food chain, dictating to the younger man what he is to do. The woman, on the other hand, takes her orders from any man, regardless of his age. It is not quite as cut-and-dry as that, of course, but it is surprising to note just how much young boys get a way with. The result is that some androgynous, face-lifted old man with a lengthy ponytail camply promotes a new bubble-based shampoo on a subway TV screen, boy band cut-outs market lip gloss outside cosmetics stores and the latest male movie star is the spokesman of a bra brand. No matter where you look, men are telling women what to do about their hair, their make-up and their underwear. South Korea is not unfamiliar to scrutiny from the west for its gender discriminatory practices. Raping one's wife has only just been outlawed, women still earn less than men do for the same job, and the popular belief is that men are incapable of housework. Even a reserved feminist might be tempted to gather the troops in protest, but I have seldom encountered a culture less concerned with gender inequality. For the most part, Korean women gladly accept their societal role.

One would think that living in this culture would feel like living in an upside-down world, and to a degree it does, but even the west is not immune to this strange trend. The boy band craze of the 1990s still lingers fresh in our minds. Brad Pitt's recent Chanel No. 5 stint, an unsuccessful one in my opinion, reverts back to an era where men advertised women's products, although with his weather-worn skin, the campaign is a far cry from the Korean style of marketing, where skin that does not sparkle is somehow mistaken. There is something a little less weird about the Chanel marketing campaign, perhaps because of Pitt's reputation as being a man's man and even the American and British boy bands aimed to fulfill the fantasies of teenage girls, a demographic not without oddity.

It is difficult to conclude this argument, if I made one at all. The point is that choice should never be taken away. To each his own. The only reason this matters at all is because the cultures of the world are converging. There are almost a million foreigners living in Korea, a country generally considered to be one of the least cosmopolitan in Asia.

And for those of us for whom make-up is a strict no-go, the time might have come to look over it. Be your own man. If make-up is not for you, then leave it to the peacocks. I am all for male grooming. As a lifelong urbanite, I probably groom more than most and am no stranger to the three-step routine. Would I wear make-up? Strictly, only when acting. Otherwise, not at all. I might be more old-fashioned, but I still consider the image of Jon Hamm (of Mad Men fame), for instance, to be a classic image of modern masculinity. I also relish the success of recent British offering, Downton Abbey, as an example of what it means to be manly and be refined at the same time.

I believe that we should care less about a perfect facade. We are meant to have wrinkles and scars as testament of a life well lived. However, we should also care and pallid skin, oil-stained clothes and consistent razor burn are less indicators of masculinity than they are the marks of a slob. I say, go for for it. Wear that BB cream and rock those man jeggings if you feel like you have come one step closer to perfection, but sadly in my book, perfection has turned out to be such an uninteresting pursuit.

Hanfred Rauch